


I didn't mean to (fall in love tonight)

by Neuqe



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post 3a, Slow Burn, this tries to have a proper plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuqe/pseuds/Neuqe
Summary: Jace and Simon are on a mission to find Clary, but they discover something more along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first multichapter fic I have ever written and I'm kind of excited and terrified. This is obviously dedicated to Jacky, who gave me this idea in the first place and is so lovely and amazing.

Simon’s hands ache as he manages to pull himself back onto whatever is left of the top floor of the building. His ears are ringing and the feeling of pure panic is getting stronger and stronger by the minute. All he can think about is Clary and the explosion.

He wants to fall down and sob because he saw the explosion and he felt the force of it. There is no way anyone could survive the force of the blast and the heat of those the flames. He knows this, logically, and there is a small voice in the back of his head repeating that Clary is dead and that is his entirely his fault.

Yet, he wants to hope. He wants to hope that for once luck is on their side and he will find Clary on the top of the building in the middle of the destruction, but she is safe, unharmed and smiling.

It is silly and dumb even to hope, and he knows it is unrealistic and farfetched but he needs that hope. Stranger things have happened in the last few months. He needs to have something to hold on because otherwise he does not know if he can keep himself together.

Instead of Clary, he sees Jace standing in the middle of the destroyed room. He stands there, looking at him, and the wind is ruffling his hair. He has a tight grip on his seraph blade, but he does not rise it or point it at him.

For a second, Simon is relieved to see Jace. The relief does not last long because suddenly he remembers and realises that even though he is staring at Jace, it is not their Jace. It is just a creature, an abomination, which wears his friend’s face.

Simon really believed that his day could not get any worse. He has endured Heidi’s bizarre torture mind games and he was forced to feed on his sister. He somehow managed not to fall apart when he tricked his own mother into thinking that he has died in a horrible accident. He fought with the queen of hell and survived from being thrown off from a window and he killed the best friend he has ever had.

Yet, universe does not think that is enough to deal within a day. Now, he is going to die if the Owl throws him off the building, again, because that does fit his style and he is not sure if the mark can protect him from gravity. The other option is that the mark will kill the Owl and Jace with it, and Simon is not sure if he can live with himself if he ends up killing two of his friends.

Nothing sensible comes out of his mouth. He does not even know why he is talking to the Owl. Nobody can resonate with him, and if they could reach the real Jace, they would not be in this mess in the first place. He does not even know what he would say.

_Please don’t kill_ me and _I don’t want to hurt you_ have both turned out to be very ineffective in his experience.

He can hear himself speak in sentence fragments about the explosion, but it feels as if it is not he who is talking. It sounds as if the speech was coming under water and he is only barely aware that he is talking.

He looks around him, helplessly, not being able to form a coherent thought. His brain is jammed with overwhelming grief, loss and icy fear and he cannot focus on any of them.

The creature drops the blade and it clatters as it hits the stone floor.

The Owl steps closer and grabs him by the collar of his jacket. This is the exact situation he feared and wanted to avoid. He panics and he does not know what to do, so he just squeezes his eyes shut and silently prays he will not hurt Jace in anyway.

Nothing happens.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me, it’s me,” he sounds frantic and borderline desperate as he repeats it like a mantra. Simon feels as if his brain is short-circuiting and it makes him confused enough that it takes him a few moments to realise the meaning behind the words.

It isn’t the Owl. It’s _Jace._ His Jace.

Simon wonders if he is repeating it to convince himself or him more, but he instantly believes him. He does not know if it is because of how desperate and pleading he sounds or the way he is intensely looking right into his eyes. It could also be the fact that he is gently holding his face in his hands, and Simon is convinced demons do not do that.

He knows he should be more doubtful and suspicious. None of them knew that Jace had been possessed or that Lilith controlled him. Still, somewhere deep down he knows it is really Jace, and that is all he needs to know.

He keeps staring at him and his gaze is piercing. People say that eyes are the mirror of the soul and Simon cannot help but think it is true. Jace’s eyes are shining with fear and excitement, but yet, there is something incredibly soft in them. The hands against his cheeks are tender and gentle and they are so close to each other he can feel the warmth of his face.

For a moment, something warm awakens in his chest when he keeps looking at Jace. It is probably his old crush on him. Simon does not even consider it as a crush, it is more like attraction, and now really is not the best time to think about it, so he buries it somewhere deep.  

“Where is she? Where’s Clary?” His voice is soft, but there is still urgency in it, and he gently caresses his left cheek.  

Simon’s heart shatters again just as he thinks about it. He almost is not strong enough to say it out loud. Saying it would make it real and he does not want to admit anything that has happened to himself. He does not want to let go of the hope he had created for himself, but Jace deserves to know the truth.

“I killed her,” he almost whispers, and his eyes start burning and he tries to blink the tears away, but it is useless. “Clary’s dead,” he adds and his heart sinks in his chest. The heartbreak is tormenting.

Jace stares at him silently for a long time and because he is so close to him, he can see in his eyes how his heart breaks into tiny pieces. He can pinpoint the exact moment Jace realises the harsh reality that they have lost Clary.

It is excruciating to watch.

Simon hopes the wind could blow his words away, as if he had never said them, and it would make it less real and take the pain away.

Jace tries to breathe deeply but it ends up being a trembling one. He pulls his hands away, and Simon instantly misses his touch and the warmth of it.

Simon half expects him to punch him in the face. He knows that he deserves it for what he has done. He deserves a lot worse than a sucker punch. The rational part of his mind, however, knows that Jace would never intentionally hurt him.

Jace bits his lower lip, obviously attempting to prevent himself from crying, but his eyes are already glistering brightly with tears.

“Are you okay?” He asks, softly, and somehow he ends up cupping his face again. His eyes are darting around his face and upper body, seemingly checking for any wounds or cuts.

Simon does not have the heart to tell him that he is the furthest thing from even relatively okay, and that the damage he has suffered is not visible to any eye.

“Yeah,” he whispers with a nod, feeling a sudden wave of guilt. He does not know why he deserves to be unhurt when Clary died. It is not fair.

Jace lets out a breath that he had apparently been holding. “Good,” he mumbles before he lets his hands fall again.

He can no longer suppress or hide his crying. His crying is mostly quiet and not at all beautiful. His face twists and turns into an alarming shade of red. His breathing is uneven and keeps hitching in his throat and his upper body trembles and shakes.  

It is dark at the top of the building, but yet Simon can see how Jace’s cheeks are gleaming with tears. Jace tries to take few steps back but ends up staggering and suddenly his legs give up on him and he falls to the floor ungracefully.

He takes his gloves off, and Simon expects him to throw them somewhere, but instead, he neatly places them next to his feet.

He looks frail and powerless as he stares at the skyline of the city, but soon he buries his face into his hands.

Simon does not even notice at first that he has started to cry as well. His eyes are burning with tears and he wipes some of the tears away, but notices that his cheeks are already wet. He cannot stop the tears from falling.

He can feel himself crumbling down and he is convinced that once he falls apart, there is no way to put the pieces back together. It is something he cannot ever imagine to recover from. It is the thing that destroys him.

He has no clue to what to do, so he sits down next to Jace. He lets himself cry because there is nothing else to do than cry. There is no way anyone can fix or improve the situation, because this is the rock bottom and he has lost one of the most important people in his life.

Clary did not deserve it. She deserved so much better and Simon cannot feel nothing but bottomless and endless sadness because he is the one who took it all away from her.

He loses the track of time. They just sit there, looking at the city and the dark night sky, not talking to each other, but they are still grieving and miserable together. Their knees touch slightly, and Simon is sure it is the only thing that is grounding him to the reality when the numbness and disbelief settle in.

Simon does not even bother to wipe his tears away. The cold wind is drying them away.

“I stabbed Alec into chest,” Jace says eventually, but so quietly, that Simon is not sure if he spoke at all or if it was just his imagination. “Magnus cannot heal him because he sacrificed his magic to break me free from Lilith’s influence.”

Simon glances at him. He is crestfallen and his eyes are all red and puffy from crying. There are still tears escaping from his eyes. It is the most vulnerable Simon has ever seen Jace to be, and he does not miss the way Jace holds his left hand over his parabatai rune as if he was afraid it would disappear at any given moment.

Simon is at loss with words. It is not a situation that could be fixed with a few flat and cliché comforting phrases. It is not a situation that could be improved with rambling or jokes. He thinks he might be the least equipped person to deal with a traumatised and post-possessed shadowhunter who fears they might have killed their own parabatai, but he is still sure as hell willing to try.

He may have let down one of his friends today, but he is not going to do it again.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Simon says softly, feeling slightly stupid because it is a dumb and flat thing to say. It is not even necessarily comforting, and it is obvious and clear as day. He does not think anyone, except maybe the Clave, because he gets the victim blaming kind of vibes from that organization, could blame Jace for what has happened.

He still knows it might not be clear for Jace. He is fully aware that he has the tendency to blame himself for things that were and are out of his control.

“We all wanted to save you,” he adds as an afterthought, because he thinks it is important for him to know it.

Jace stares at the floor and his smile is quick and strained. Simon would not even really call it a smile. It only distantly resembles one. It is miserable to look at.

The silence falls between them again, and even though it is heavy and sombre silence that is not easily broken, Simon feels the need to say something.

“Nothing went according to the plan and today has been just one massive disaster, but I’m still glad you’re you again,” he says slowly, but his voice is filled with sincerity. Their hands lie between them against the floor and he tentatively brushes his knuckles against Jace.

It is only a slight touch. Light as a feather, really. Still, he feels the warmth that his skin radiates. He knows Jace does not come across as a person who likes to be touched, and he probably does not, but words are falling him spectacularly, and he hopes the touch could be comforting or at least grounding or helpful in any way.

Jace does not pull his hand away. He is aware of it, he has to be because he is looking at their hands from the corner of his eye, and he lets him to do it.

It is a really small and insignificant thing and Simon does not know what he hopes it to achieve, so he just puts his hand back down, next to Jace’s hand.

Jace moves his hand, and Simon is sure that he is going to move it further away from him, and he curses himself mentally for making him uncomfortable.

He is more than surprised when Jace returns the touch. He brushes his slightly swollen knuckles against his own and the touch is not that light anymore, but it is not forceful either. It is just a touch, real and tangible. Simon can feel the rough skin of his hand on his skin.

The moment is almost serene. As serene as anything can be in the middle of destruction and loss. Still, it feels as if his hand was on fire. His touch is almost like electricity that runs up on his arm.

It is a tiny touch and Simon wonders whether Jace does it because it helps him or because he thinks it helps him. Either way, Simon is grateful for it.

He is unsure whether he should do it again, but he does it, and Jace follows, and also touches his hand with his knuckles again.

Jace sharply sucks in a breath. “Uh, me too,” he manages to say, but he sounds exhausted, and Simon senses there is more to it, but he is not willing to talk about it.

“What happened here?” He asks, as if he only suddenly realised that they are still sitting in the middle of destruction, turning his head to see rest of the ruins of the room.  

“Lilith knew about the mark and what it could do,” Simon starts to explain and unconsciously touches his forehead, “but it was Clary’s plan to trick her into attacking me,” he continues, but suddenly he feels sick to the stomach because it sounds as if it was Clary’s fault and that is not the truth.

He is unable to talk for a moment because the grief has an intense grip on him and it feels as if everything is crumbling down and he cannot go on. Jace does not pressure him, but he can still feel the weight of his gaze and his knuckles are lingering on his.

“She was probably intending to leash the powers of hell on me because there was a blast and it was the strongest one so far, and I fell from a window, but--“, he swallows hard, “I didn’t fall all the way down, I got a grip on one of the windowsills, but then there-- the explosion was so strong and there was just this glow of red and orange--,” he lets his voice fade away because he cannot bring himself to say it aloud again.

“So you killed Lilith,” Jace concludes quietly, still glancing around the piles of rubble and ashes.

“I think so?” Simon replies with a shrug. He guesses he should be happy about it. It is a one less problem in their lives and some probably would consider taking down the queen of hell as an accomplishment, but Simon cannot feel even an ounce of victory because the price was too high and he was never willing to pay it.

Suddenly, Jace stands up as if a lighting had stricken him. He is buzzing with nervous energy and he aimlessly walks around of what is left of the floor.

“There are no bodies,” he blurts out, turning around to look at him, and stares at him as if Simon is missing something obvious.

“What?”

“There are no remains up here. Not Clary’s or not Sebastian’s,” Jace tries to clarify, but he seems impatient.

Simon opens up his mouth but abruptly closes it again. Jace is correct with his observation, but it does not mean anything. Their bodies were probably blown away or burn into ashes. Simon feels sick again just at the thought of it.

Jace rapidly walks to the edge and peers down to the ground. He glances at Simon and he seems to have epiphany of the century.

“There is nothing on the ground. No pieces of glass or anything,” he tells him with a gleam in his eyes.

Now, Simon is more than confused and he follows Jace to the edge. He cannot see clearly to the ground, but it seems that there is nothing that would indicate an explosion had occurred. No pieces of walls or shattered glass.

“Are you sure there was an explosion?” Jace asks, and the urgency has found its way back to his voice.

“Yes,” Simon says, still looking down at the pavement and desolate parking lot. He is certain he can never forget it and the glow and brightness of the explosion cannot be unseen and erased from his memory. He has to live with it.

“Demons don’t die in the literal sense of the word,” Jace says, “they dissolve and get send to the realm which they came from.”

Simon nods, even though he is more than confused why he decided to start a lecture about demons. “So Lilith got send back to Edom,” he says, at least it seems logical to him.

“Yeah, you send her back there,” Jace confirms and Simon is almost sure he hears a hint of pride in his voice.

“So the explosion was her being forced back to Edom?”

“Essentially, yes,” Jace muses and at some point, he has pulled his stele from his pocket because he is fidgeting with it. “But it wasn’t an explosion at all.”

Simon cannot help but stare at him with a perplexed expression.

“She is the most powerful demon we’ve encountered and it is possible that when she was destroyed with the force that your mark has,” he says, making a vague gesture towards his forehead, “that she wasn’t the only thing that got send to Edom. It affected her surroundings, too.”

Suddenly, the spark of hope has returned. Simon does not want to get his hopes up if it turns out that his hope is false and imagined again.

“You mean--?” He stammers.

“Clary isn’t dead. She’s in Edom,” Jace says, and for first time during their time in the middle of the ruins of the top floor, he smiles genuinely and the smile radiates hope.

The spark ignites a fire in Simon’s chest.

***

Simon does not know what is the appropriate reaction to the fact that one’s best friend is not dead but in one of the realms of Hell, but he feels oddly relieved and almost overjoyed. Edom does not sound like a safe place to be, but it is something that they can change and fix. They can get her out of there.

Simon does not remember how they ended up back to the Institute because his brain and thoughts are just one foggy cloud of _she might not be dead, she might not be dead, she might not be dead._

As soon as Jace pushes the door of the Institute open, Izzy nearly runs to them and wraps her arms tightly around Jace. She hugs him with enough force to make him stagger a few steps back before he regains his balance. He seems visibly to relax into their hug and closes his eyes as he burrows his head into her hair. His hands clench to the fabric of her shirt.

They are softly whispering something to each other, and it is audible to Simon but he decides try and not to listen. He wants them to have their privacy.

“How’s Alec?” Jace asks cautiously as he lets her go.

Izzy’s face breaks into a dazzling smile as she tilts her head to the side. “Surviving, like Lightwoods always do.”

Simon thinks for a second that he sees more tears glistering in his eyes, but he is still biting back a tiny smile. “Three go in,” he half-mumbles.

“Three come out,” Izzy replies without missing a beat, but the way she says it is filled with fondness and her smile is reminiscent.

Simon has no idea what it means, but it obviously holds significance to them.

She glances at Jace and then him, and she frowns, as she seems to do often when she is confused or puzzled by something.

“Where’s Clary?” She asks slowly, and almost fearfully. Her face loses its softness and any trace of joy it had before, and her expression becomes stoic, but her eyes give her fear away. She looks like she is bracing herself for the worst-case scenario.

Simon really loathes the lifestyle shadowhunters have.

“In Hell, we think,” Simon replies, sounding a bit too cheerful.

“Edom,” Jace corrects with a spectacular eye roll, and starts to explain his theory to her. The stoic expression disappears as she listens to him and she keeps nodding almost franticly. It seems Simon is not the only one who wants to grab the only little hope they have with both hands.

“It makes sense,” she says, “but we need some kind of confirmation, we cannot just send a rescue party there without really knowing that she is there.”

“We’re heading to the library,” Jace says, and suddenly Simon notices how exhausted he looks. He half wonders whether being released from a possession is a tiring experience.

It could also be the awful lighting of the Institute that makes the dark bags below his eyes seem grey and make all wrinkles on his face more visible.

Jace catches him staring but Simon does not care because the nagging thoughts of _when he has last eaten or slept_ have entered his mind and he cannot shake them off, but he does not know how to bring it up.

“We could consult the silent brothers,” Izzy says, distracting him from his thoughts. She sounds like she is merely thinking aloud and throwing ideas around.

Simon nods, but Jace shakes his head immediately, and Simon cannot understand why. Sure, he does not know much about silent brothers, except that they are extremely creepy, but he thinks it is still worth the shot.

“No,” Jace says sternly with a low voice, voicing his protestation, “we cannot tell the Clave about Simon’s mark.”

He does not look at him when he says it instead he looks at Izzy. There is finality in his voice, indicating that it is not something he is willing to negotiate about.

Izzy is about to say something, but apparently she decides against it, and Simon can see from her eyes when the realisation hits her.

“You’re right. It’s too risky.”

Simon is confused for a brief moment, but then he starts to think what he knows about the Clave, and it is not that difficult to deduce what would happen to him if the Clave knew that he was one of his kind, more of a myth than anything else, that nobody knows anything about.

“I also vote for the option where I don’t end up as a Clave’s Guinea pig,” Simon says with a wave of his hand.

“Exactly.”

Izzy lets out a deep sigh. “I guess this one of those things we don’t talk or tell people about.”

“Most of the things are,” Simon points out matter-of-factly. He has lost of track of what secrets he is supposed to keep and from whom and why. “Do you think other institutes get weekly crises like this or is this more _our_ problem? Any chance the Clave will soon issue mission report forms that let us choose from _Kind of illegal resurrection_ and _we accidently send one of us into a realm of Hell_?”

Jace snorts, but there is a ghost of an amused smile on his lips, but Simon still gets the vibes that he thinks he is an idiot. “These problems aren’t probably that universal.”

“I wonder why,” Simon mumbles, and Izzy chuckles before she turns on her heels and walks towards the direction of the institute’s huge library. He and Jace follow her a few steps behind.

The institute is surprisingly quiet and the loudest noise is the sound of Izzy’s high heels hitting the stone floor. Simon suddenly realises he has no idea what time it is, but it is probably in the middle of the night.

“We could ask Magnus,” Izzy suggests, looking over her shoulder, “he probably knows something, but I don’t know how distraught he currently is.”

They walk past the corridor that leads to the infirmary. Jace glances at it wistfully and his gaze lingers there, and Simon notices it.

“You can go if you want,” Simon says quietly, nudging his shoulder with his own.

“What?”

“You can go check on Alec,” Simon clarifies, vaguely nodding towards the corridor that they have already passed. “I can check the books on my own.”

Jace looks at him, and it is almost similar look he gave him when he held his face, but this one is more unreadable and Simon does not even dare to guess what it means. He probably would guess wrong anyway.

He stays silent, so Simon feels the need to continue his reassurance that he can manage without him. “I’ve got my vampire speed and all, and I’ll let you know that my 8th grade teacher, Miss Suso, complimented my research skills, so I’ll be more than fine,” he says, chuckling.

Jace ignores all of his joking and he does not even smile. “Thank you,” he whispers, but it is still filled with gratitude, and it tugs something warm in his heart, and it is good enough for Simon.

“No problem,” he answers, but Jace has already disappeared into the other direction.

***

Simon spends hours at the library. The book pile next to him grows all the time, he has at least ten different books, and journals sprawled around the table. All of them are equally tedious.

Inbetween his research he manages to call Luke to tell him that his daughter is not dead but in Hell. Luke sounds surprisingly relieved, but still worried, and just tells him to do everything he can to bring her back and to call him the updates.

The sun is rising and drowning the old and wooden library in gold light, when Simon finally finds what he has been looking for.

The Institute is still silent when he rushes towards the infirmary with an old and decrepit looking, leather covered journal.  

The infirmary is not any busier than the rest of the institute and Simon immediately spots Jace when he enters the spacious room. The only light on is above Alec’s bed, and Jace sits in one of the two chairs next to his bed. The other one is empty and Izzy sleeps in the empty bed next to his.

He walks up to them and every step he takes seems so loud, yet when he touches his shoulder slightly, he seems startled.

“Bad time?” He asks, glancing at Alec, who lies on the bed very still. His skin is paler than usually and there are dried stains of blood on his clothes, but his breathing seems steady and Simon can hear his strong heartbeat.

“No,” Jace replies, shaking his head, but he does not take his gaze off from Alec.

Simon sits in the empty chair next to him and opens the journal from the page he had been reading. He hands it to Jace and taps on the corner of the page.

“So it turns out Clave has always been a massive organisation full of big time jerks, which isn’t a huge surprise, and one of them decided they could summon a greater demon for fun and science,” Simon explains and Jace’s gaze darts between him and the journal.

“They studied it and did experiments but they hit a brick wall when they tried to get rid of it, because you know, no one thought it that far, but when they managed to get rid of it, half of the room disappeared with it,” he says and points at different part of the page.

“They guessed it disappeared with it to a realm with a really unpronounceable name but no one ever bothered to check it out because no one missed ugly and green 18th century ottomans and half of a fire place.”

“Does this tell how they got rid of it?” Jace asks, looking up from the old journal. His eyes look bright and exquisite in the morning light that flows from the huge windows, and Simon tries not to stare for a long time.

“No, it was probably at least a tiny bit illegal in the eyes of the Clave or morally questionable, but it mentions a bright explosion,” Simon tells him, and cannot help but grin. Having hope is exhilarating.

“So it is possible,” Jace concludes with a relieved sigh and gently closes the journal.

“Yeah,” Simon says, “does this mean we have to go to Edom?”

For a moment, Simon wonders how his life ended up in a point where he has to ask if they are going to hell, literally, but he does not have too much time to dwell on the thought.

“I want to say that it is a horrendous idea, atrocious truly, but I don’t think you will listen to me, even if I do say it,” Magnus says suddenly, as he walks into the room with a glass of water and places it to the table beside the bed. “In addition, it is easier said than done.”

Magnus stands next to the bed and brushes Alec’s hand with his long fingers. Magnus looks even more exhausted than Jace. The spark from his eyes is gone and he is just a shadow from his usual self. His whole demeanour seems defeated and somehow he manages to slouch, even though he is standing. It is as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“How difficult?” Simon manages to ask eventually, when it seems obvious that Magnus is not going to elaborate any further.

“Creating a gateway to Edom isn’t as easy as performing a normal summoning,” Magnus starts explaining, and all Simon is able to think about is what counts as a normal summoning. “It needs special ingredients in the powder that is used for the pentagram.”

He is still looking at Alec instead of them. There is certain kind of softness in the way he looks at him and Simon feels as if he was invading a private moment as he just looks at them.

“The ingredients are rare and not easily available, because for some reason, it is not totally acceptable to open a gateway to Edom,” he continues and there is an edge of bitterness in his voice, “I used last of my powder yesterday. I haven’t visited the place in centuries and I didn’t think anyone would have to go back next day.”

Simon feels almost guilty for bringing Edom up, because it clearly is not his favourite topic to talk about and he cannot even start to imagine how difficult it must be for him to lose his magic.

“Can you give us a list of ingredients?” Simon asks, unsurely handing him his phone.

He does not answer, but he still takes the phone and writes something. Based on the time he uses just to write the ingredients, the list is probably longer than Simon would like.

Magnus hands him his phone back, and Simon glances quickly at the list that probably has ten different things, before he slides it into the pocket of his jacket.

“The other problem is that we need to find a warlock that is willing to perform the spell,” he sounds almost heartbroken, but still harsh as he says it. “Lorenzo has forbidden any warlock in New York to help me, and warlocks usually aren’t eager to cast a spell that includes Edom, because it is still frowned upon, but I know a few warlocks who owe me a favour. I could contact them,” he says with a vague and lazy wave of a hand.

“Alright,” Simon says and tries to stay positive, but he feels like the whole rescue operation might be more arduous and take more time than anyone of them would want. It is also probably a lot more perilous than he can even imagine.

“I’ll get the ingredients,” Jace says abruptly, standing up.

“I’m coming with you,” Simon says immediately, and Jace gives him one of those confused but yet unreadable looks, “this is kind of my fault and I stared it,” he explains.

Jace merely nods as an acknowledgement, but he does not seem too excited.

“What about Izzy?” Simon asks, and looks at her. She is still soundly sleeping and snoring softly. Her hair covers most of her face, but she still looks younger.  

“She is the acting head of the Institute and we need her to cover our tracks from here,” Jace explains, “and I cannot ask her to leave Alec,” he adds gently.

Magnus has sit down on the edge of the bed and seems to pay no attention to them.

“Luke is dealing with the post-possessed people,” Simon mentions, offhandedly.

“So it is just us,” Jace says, seeming slightly awkward, but it might be that Simon is only imagining it. He would not necessarily connect awkward to Jace in any situation. It is much more of his thing.

Yet, he can feel the awkwardness between them. Everything between them is so disparate from what they were on the top of the building, and Simon cannot decide if it is a good or bad thing.

“Think of it as a road trip,” he suggests cheerfully, mock punching him in the arm.

“To hell,” he deadpans.

“We will pick a lovelier destination next time.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so sorry this took so long to update and second of all, thank you for everyone who has left nice comments on the first chapter, I really appreciate them!!

“It’s so _yellow_ ,” Jace says with disgust, as he looks at the van Simon has parked in front of the institute. It looks even more horrible as it gleams in the bright sunlight. It is so garnish it actually hurts to look at it.

“I nearly forgot how observant you’re when you’re you,” Simon says, deadpan, with an exasperated eye roll, but he still looks at the van with pride.

Jace cannot comprehend where the pride stems from, but he has no time to think about that, because his minds instantly starts to dwell on the casual way Simon almost jokes about his possession.

It is sort of refreshing that someone attempts to joke about it because everyone at the institute is treating him with kid gloves and walking on eggshells as they try to talk about it. Half of the shadowhunters he has met since refuse to call it anything else than an ‘incident.’

Jace is not surprised that the first one to joke about it is Simon, but he still likes it nevertheless. He thinks he needs it, too. He needs the lightness of it. He is barely holding himself together, and he fears his own thoughts and intense self-hatred might swallow him, so he needs the distraction. He cannot help but think that Simon is the perfect distraction from everything that has happened.

Simon turns his head to look at him and his grin is brilliant and bright. “Unfortunately for you, it’s the only mode of transportation available, and the upside of it is that you cannot see the yellowness from inside,” he comforts him, and for a moment Jace thinks Simon is going to put his hand on his shoulder, but instead he grabs the shoulder strap of his back bag and slides it off from his back.

“That’s comforting,” Jace mutters, and tries to shake off the feeling of superficial disappointment that Simon did not touch him. He tries to deny he even is disappointed. There is no reason for him to be. He does not know where the thought and feeling even came from.

Unfortunately, Simon is right about the modes of transportation. Jace did not even realise how dependent they have become on portals before there was a serious lack of portal-creators. Clary is in Edom and Magnus is stripped off from his powers, and Simon had instantly offered his van before Jace had any time to protest.

Simon slides the door of the van open and throws Jace’s bag inside. For a tenth time, Jace thinks that Simon might be a little too excited about their road trip that most definitely is not one, but he has no choice, but follow him into the van.

To be honest, Jace is not too thrilled about their road trip that definitely is not a road trip. Magnus’ instructions were clear enough, but none of the items seemed easy to get. No one even knows how long it will take to gather all the ingredients. Magnus’ estimations varied from hours to days.

Jace knows that getting Clary to safety as soon as possible is the highest priority, but he is barely holding himself together. He knows he is going to break down at some point, and he would rather just lie somewhere and ignore everyone and maybe punch something and scream a little.

What he does not need is getting stuck to a metal can that serves as a car with Simon for indefinite time. He likes Simon, maybe more than he even admits to himself, but Simon has the ability to see through his act and pretending and all of the walls and it is a lot scarier than Jace wants to think.

There is also a lot between them they have not talked about, even though they should, and Jace knows he has a lot of apologizing to do, but he is not sure where to start and how.

The van is smaller than it looks, and based on the stuffy smell, it does not have an air condition. Luckily, the inside of the van is not yellow, but ugly shade of grey. There is not a lot of leg space and his hand almost touches Simon’s when his hand is on the gear stick.

The engine makes a terrible sputtering sound as Simon ignites it.  

“I almost forgot,” Simon mutters and turns around in his seat to fish something from the back of the van and soon he pulls a full looking white plastic bag out. “This is for you,” he announces and promptly drops it to his lap.

Out of curiosity, he peers inside. He sees at least five sandwiches and bunch of fruits and water bottles. He was gone for a little over twenty minutes to fetch the van, but it also seems he managed to empty the snack aisle of a small supermarket.

Jace’s stomach growls at the sight of the food, and suddenly there is a dull ache in his stomach and he cannot honestly remember the last time he had eaten. Still, he manages to look at him, perplexed, even though he has a suspicion that Simon was better at anticipating his needs than him.

Simon drums the wheel with his fingers. “I don’t know when you’ve last eaten, so there’s some food, because we’re not doing this whole road trip thing if you’re starving. I feel like you would be grumpy when you’re hungry,” he babbles on, seeming almost embarrassed of that he had thought of it or that he had acted on it.

Jace hates that he is embarrassed. He wants to wipe it away, but he does not know how. It is a small thing, in theory, but it is still one of the nicest things anyone has done for him in a long time and it is really nice, more than nice, nice does not even begin to cover it, to know that Simon cares about him. The thought of that does unfair things to his heart.

He does not say anything of that aloud. Instead, he blurts out one of his thoughts, and it is the one he does not want to talk about.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

The words hang heavy in the air, almost heavier than the silence that falls between them. Jace can feel Simon staring at him, his gaze on his skin, and he can see from the corner of his eye that Simon is tilting his head in confusion.

Jace pretends to stare at the cover of tuna sandwich.

“Because we’re friends,” Simon says, eventually and slowly, as if it was the most obvious answer. It is plain and simple, and he says it as if it was a fact. It is also a statement and it is not a conversation opener and Jace does not feel the need to explain himself, and he is more grateful than he could say.

Certain kind of warmth sparks in his chest, the kind of that was not there before, when he realises that Simon considers them friends.

“Thank you,” Jace whispers, but he tries to put as much sincerity in his voice as he possibly can.

Simon nods and smiles brightly at him, but the smile fades away quicker than Jace would have predicted.

“If this is question time, I’ve a few questions, too,” Simon tells him, as he watches him to unwrap the first sandwich.

“Ask away,” Jace says, even though he is dreading each and every single question, because he is afraid he will not have answers he deserves. He takes a bite of the sandwich instead of looking at him.

“First one, are you okay?” He asks gently, and his voice is filled with genuine worry.

Jace is more than surprised, because that was not what he was expecting at all. He does not know why. It is very Simon-like question.

Maybe he expected blame and accusation because he feels like he deserves it. He should have known better than expect it from Simon, though.

He does not find his voice to answer. He feels too weak and exhausted. He knows he could pretend but he does not want to. Not to Simon at least. He merely shakes his head and hopes Simon thinks it is because his mouth is full of bread.

“Okay, an additional question to that, is there anything I can do to make you feel more okay?” He says it honestly, as if he means it completely, and he seems genuinely willing to help him, if he just wants his help.

Jace’s eyes start burning and he has to blink few times to keep the tears away. He does not want to cry because someone is treating him with a lot more kindness than he currently deserves. Once again, he is at loss with words. He does not know, or necessarily want to, how to tell that he has already helped him.

“This is enough,” he says, with a tiny smile, as he waves the half-eaten sandwich. He does not want to tell him that he is like a ray of sunshine in immense and endless darkness.

Simon looks doubtfully at him, but ends up flashing a smile anyway. “Just tell me if there’s anything.”

Jace nods, and takes a few more bites of his sandwich. “Did you have a second question?”

“Why you don’t want to go find the ingredients with me? You got all weird after I said I’d come with you and I get that you don’t necessarily like me that much-,” Simon rambles on.

“I don’t don’t like you,” Jace mumbles, being fully aware it is not the most intelligent thing he could say. He makes a ball out of the sandwich’s paper wrapper and puts it back to the bag, and picks up another sandwich.

“That’s a double negative,” Simon states.

“I’m aware,” he replies, and resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“So you do like me,” Simon says, sounding a little uncertain, but it still is not a question.

“On some level,” Jace says, because he does not have it in him actually to admit the truth. Not right now. Not when they have every intention to head to a realm of Hell and not in a stuffy yellow van and not after everything he has done to him. 

Simon makes a delighted noise, nevertheless. “So why are you reluctant?”

“I don’t think anyone would like to be around me right now,” Jace tells him quietly, and it is probably the closest thing to the truth. That is the only way he is able to put into words.

“Because of the owl thing?” Simon asks, but he does not give him the chance to reply. “It wasn’t your fault, and that thing wasn’t you. Of course, I’d prefer the option in which Clary isn’t in Edom, but if I have to on a rescue mission and find a bunch of rare ingredients, I’m glad it is with you.”

Jace cannot help but smile. It is oddly comforting, even though the situation itself is dire and terrible.

“Do you have the list?” Simon asks, changing the subject.

Jace had written it on paper, just in case, from Simon’s phone while he was picking up the van. He pulls a wrinkled piece of paper and unfolds it.

“The list isn’t actually that long,” Jace points out as he reads it again. “It has only six items but Magnus gave us weirdly specific instructions.”

“Were the ingredients gross and odd? Because I think I saw something about blood and bones,” he says, sounding a bit distressed, and he stares at the trunk of the car parked right in front of the van.

Jace does not know what to reply. The list includes flowers of poisonous plants, sand from an entry of different world, blood willingly sacrificed, water from Seelie realm, bones of someone who has died and a memory of a loved one.  

“They-,” he starts, but ends up just showing the list to Simon’s hands because he has no clue how to start describing the list.

“Sounds fun,” he says with a frown and forced positivity as he finishes reading the list, and Jace cannot help but grin. “So where do we start?”

***

They get stuck in the morning traffic and the line of cars keeps moving slower and slower all the time. Simon keeps sighing and tapping the wheel with his fingers, and he is radiating with nervous energy, and Jace cannot blame him.

Out of all the things that could slower their rescue operation, morning rush seems too mundane and frustrating.

“Do you want to listen to something? I don’t have a playlist that would give the ‘we are going to pick some poisonous flowers’ vibes, but there’s always radio, and I think that for you listening to what’s on the charts is already some sort of version of hell, so,” Simon rambles on.

“You can put something on,” Jace says, not really caring, but he has a feeling that music will help Simon more than him, and he is not sure he can deal with his nervousness for the twelve hour drive to Michigan.

He hums as he puts the radio on and soon the silence is filled with quiet and soft song. Jace does not recognise it but Simon starts to half-sing the lyrics along the song, and Jace is not sure if he is even aware of it, but he does not mind at all. It is actually nice.

“Does the list say why it has to be the specific water hemlock? This would be a lot easier if we didn’t have to drive to another state,” Simon asks as the line moves few inches further.

Jace shakes his head. “No, it just says it has to be the certain plant planted by some woman named Rebecca in early 1700s. It’s probably magical, which means it rarely makes any sense,” he continues, shrugging.

“Why a forest in Michigan? She had some questionable thought pattern with that one,” Simon mutters, and the line moves almost a half block further.

Jace just huffs as he looks out of the window. There is a busy coffee house across the street filled with people and he stares at them, and he almost finds himself wishing it would be his life, too. Knowing nothing about demons and possessions sounds more than tempting.

“I’ve an idea,” Simon announces out of the blue and unbuckles his seatbelt. Suddenly, he is standing outside of the van, on the road, and holding the door open. “If the line moves, just drive.”

Jace just stares at him, dumbfounded.

Simon frowns. “You know how to drive, right?”

“Shadowhunters don’t drive,” Jace replies, without missing a beat, and it is a fact. It is not something Clave is requires or endorses and now that he starts to think about it, he does not know if he has ever met a shadowhunter who could drive.

Simon rolls his eyes. “Fine, maybe you’ve a point, but after we’re done with all of this,” he says, making a vague hand gesture, “I’m gonna teach you how to drive, but for now, it’s enough that you know that the accelerator is the pedal on the right,” he continues rapidly and slams the door close, and disappears into the crowd of people in the street.

Jace is left alone and perplexed in the car with an upbeat song playing in the background, and he does not know what to do, but luckily, Simon returns only few minutes later, holding something tiny and narrow in his hand and grinning widely.

“Here’s our bone,” he announces, proudly, and hands it to him.

The bone is small and it fits on his palm. It looks very fragile and smells terrible. Jace’s eyes dart between the bone and Simon.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, suspiciously, squinting his eyes.

“From the dumpster of that butcher shop,” he says, pointing vaguely to the left.

“Dumpster,” Jace echoes with certain disbelief as he examines the bone closer. It is an animal bone, but he cannot be sure what it is. “Is this chicken?”

“It could be,” Simon admits with a lazy shrug and he tilts his head. “But it fits the spell right? It’s a bone,” he explains, and takes the bone away from him, “I don’t think chicken could live without a rib or wing bone, so it’s a bone of someone who is dead.”

“Stop pointing and poking me with it,” Jace says, sounding mildly annoyed, and taking the bone back. “Would you refer a chicken as a someone?”

It is always the technicalities that mess up spells, but he does not have a better idea, not that he is going to admit that to him, because grave digging and killing are not really options he wants to think about.

“Weirdly philosophical question, but yes,” Simon replies, still grinning, “admit that my logic is solid and we can keep the bone.”

“I’m not sure about the logic part,” Jace says, glancing at him, “but we can keep the bone, but if it isn’t suitable, I’ll remind you that this was _your_ idea.”

“Prepare to admit your defeat.”

***

Jace does not remember falling asleep, but he must have because he wakes up to Simon persistently poking his bicep.

He is still half asleep, and he keeps blinking, but as soon as he opens his eyes, all he can see is forest. Simon has parked the van at the edge of an empty field and the sun is already setting behind the woods.

“Welcome to Michigan,” Simon tells him cheerfully, before hopping off the van.  Jace follows him outside, looking at the sky and clouds, which are painted in bright orange and light pink by the setting sun. The breeze is cold and the few long grasses growing at field look pathetic as the wind bends them. His legs feel stiff and there is a throbbing pain in his neck.

“So, we are not gonna go the forest in the dark, that’s how horror movies start,” Simon tells him, as he opens the back door of the van. Jace peers inside behind the door and besides their bags, he sees a worn-out mattress, a few flat pillows and thin looking blankets.

“Aren’t you now glad that I once tried to live in this van?” Simon asks, chuckling, and nudging his shoulder.

“Very,” Jace deadpans, still staring at the impromptu camping site at the back of the van.

Simon sits down at the edge of the mattress and lets his legs hang from the van. He swings his left leg and keeps hitting a culm of a dried and dead grass with the tip of his shoe. Jace sits next to him, and the doorway is so narrow, their legs touch each other inevitably.

“Did you sleep well?” Simon asks, suddenly, glancing at him, but his interest seems genuine. “You seemed kind of restless,” he adds, as an afterthought.

Jace shakes his head. He must have slept at least half of the time they drove, but he still feels the dull pain of exhaustion. Images of Alec lying motionlessly on the alley, Magnus’ tears and different memories of Clary just flashed in his mind.

He is not too fond of the idea of sleeping, generally. He slept more in the car than he has in weeks. He has no desire to relive his worst memories in the form of nightmares and he knows that Lilith got her hold on him while he was sleeping.

He fears that if he closes his eyes, he might slip away again.

He says none of it to him, but still, somehow, Simon knows exactly what is going on his mind.

“Lilith is gone,” he says, gently and almost tentatively.

Jace looks at his own hands and they feel as if they were not his, but some stranger’s hands. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone anymore,” he admits quietly, and he is almost sure that Simon does not hear him.

“You won’t,” Simon says and it sounds awfully lot like a promise, even though Jace knows it is not the kind of promise Simon could keep, even if he wanted to. “And I cannot even imagine what you went through, but I know being forced to hurt the ones you care about is terrible and horrible. Heidi made me fed on my sister-,”.

Jace knows Simon keeps talking. His mouth is moving, his eyes are shining with distress and he uses his hands to help explaining his story, but Jace cannot hear a thing. His heart is pounding in his chest and his ears are ringing loudly. His lungs refuse to fill themselves with air and cold sweat breaks out.

The thing is, he does not remember everything he did under the possession. He remembers being aware of everything what he was forced to do with his body, and how he had hoped, begged and prayed that it would all end, but some of the details are clear, but most are fuzzy. It is like those childhood memories that he knows happened, but he cannot remember the details.

Simon mentions Heidi, and the memory flooded into his mind with enough force that he almost whimpers. The worst part, however, is the realisation. It hits him hard. He did it to Simon. He gave Lilith the information she required to orchestrate the whole thing. He helped Heidi to escape and told her what to do. All of it is his fault. He is the reason behind his suffering.

The disgust and self-hatred are becoming too much, and he cannot help but fumble away from the van. His throat and stomach are burning and he gags and retches once before vomiting to the field. He tries to take deep breathes but his body is not cooperating and instead, he starts shaking.

He hears footsteps behind him, but luckily, Simon stays further away. “You okay?”

Jace manages to drag himself to a sitting position, and just tries to breathe. The ground is cold beneath him and he shivers. He ignores Simon’s question, but he knows he needs to tell him the truth. He deserves the truth, at least. He deserves so much better but he has nothing else to offer.

Simon squats next to him, his forehead furrowed in worry, and he tries to put his hand on his shoulder, but Jace pushes it away. It is unfair, but he cannot stand the idea of Simon comforting him about hurting him.

“I’m so sorry,” Jace manages to choke out, and he is afraid he is going to cry again, but no tears come out. He repeats it a few times, because he is not sure what else he could say. “I told her--she used my memories-- I did that to you,” Jace manages to say, even though his voice breaks down countless times.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Simon reassures, and his hands hover near him as if he is not sure what to do with them, and Jace does not know how to tell him that he is allowed to touch him despite earlier, “it wasn’t _you._ She used you and none of it is your fault.”

Jace looks at him, and Simon seems genuine with his reassurance. His smile is small, but warm and he really looks at him in the way as if he was the only thing that mattered.

“I don’t what to say but if it makes you feel better, I can say I forgive you, but there isn’t anything to forgive and I’m not mad. At you, at least,” he says, gently, and brushes his cheek lightly with his thumb. It is a small touch but it feels like electricity and fire against his skin.

Jace nods because he cannot find the words. He still feels awful and the quilt has not disappeared anywhere, but knowing that Simon will not abandon or hate him because of it, dulls the turmoil a little.

“I’d not blame you if you were angry,” Jace says, quietly.

“Yeah, but I’m not. Besides, I already knew that she used your memories to get to me,” Simon adds, “it wasn’t that hard to figure it out.”

“Oh,” Jace manages to reply and it is slightly hard for him to comprehend it because Simon has been nothing but kind to him, buying him food and letting him sleep, while he has known that it is his fault that his life with his family is wrecked.

“We’re fine, okay?” He says, his smile widening, and he places his hand on his shoulder as he stands up again.

“Okay,” Jace echoes, mirroring his smile, and hoping that at some point he believes it as well.

***

Simon falls asleep almost immediately but Jace cannot fall asleep. Simon had made him promise that he would wake him up if he had nightmares, but it is unlikely to have them if he does not fall asleep.  

The space at the back of the van is way too small for two people and surprisingly warm. The mattress has weird bumps on it and the pillow is so flat it almost feels like he has nothing under his head. Simon keeps snoring softly, but Jace does not mind. It is not luminous, but not too dark, either, and he can clearly see Simon’s face.

His own mind is restless and he cannot stop thinking about things he does not want to think about, so he distracts himself by looking at Simon, and he lets his mind wander.

He looks peaceful and carefree as he sleeps. His eyelids keep fluttering but he seems to be deep asleep. A few locks of his hair have fallen to his forehead, and Jace has unexplainable urge to push them away.

It is difficult not to think how different their lives could be. He likes Simon. Maybe at first he was a little annoyed by him but soon it turned into fondness and honestly, he does not know how he could not like him. It is effortless thing, and he knows it is just the effect Simon has on people. Everyone likes him.

He has kept up his act and still pretends for most of the time that he is exasperated by him and keeps bickering with him. It is easier to pretend than to admit that he has started to feel things.

He knows he more than likes him, but that thought is a slippery slope that only goes downhill and he does not like to think about it. It is pointless to think about, but in the silence and darkness, it is hard not to think about it, especially when Simon sleeps right next to him and he has his limbs partly spread on him.

Maybe in a different world and in a different life, they could be something more than friends. ‘What if’ is his favourite sentence of the night.

***

Hiking through the forest goes more quickly than Jace expects it to go. He is not sure if it is because the distance is short or because he keeps wallowing in his own thoughts and sorrows.

“It should be here,” Simon announces, looking up from his phone. He turns around, looking around himself. He is mostly looking at the ground and squints at random plants he sees. They have arrived to a tiny meadow that is covered in different flowers and long grasses. The sun is up and makes the meadow and trees glow in bright yellow light.

Jace sees over Simon’s shoulder that he googles the picture of a water hemlock. “I cannot see anything like this,” he says, waving his phone in his hand.

“That’s because you’re standing on it,” Jace says, deadpan, and squats down to examine the plant Simon has almost destroyed.

Simon quickly steps away, and it is clear the plant is magically enchanted. It is bigger than regular water hemlock and surprisingly strong. Even though, Simon accidentally stomped it, it is still standing and only slightly bended in a funny angle. As soon as Jace rips one flower away, another grows to replace it.

“This is why we make a great team,” Simon jokes with a quiet chuckle, and even though Jace rolls his eyes as he puts the flower into a small plastic bag, he cannot help but agree and he likes the thought of it a lot.

***

Their next destination is also in a forest, but obviously, it has to be in the outskirts of Delaware. The almost ten-hour drive is almost similar as the first one, Simon drives as he listens to the radio and occasionally sings along with the songs. The only difference is that Jace does not sleep this time.

They keep talking to each other most of the time, but Jace notices that both of them avoid any painful topics, and the whole conversation is mostly just Simon rambling and Jace occasionally commenting  on something he says, but it is still nice. They laugh a bit, and it is the real kind of laugh, the kind of that just bubbles out. He even learns some new things about Simon too, like the fact that he used to be allergic to spinach and he wanted to be a professional fipple flute player.

Jace does not miss the way Simon grows more anxious the closer to the lake they get. He guesses it is because the lake partly exists in Seelie realm as well because it is one of those places where the borders of the realms are thin, weak and easy to trespass.

This time Simon does not say anything when he parks the van. Instead, he just stares at the dark and gloomy forest that seems to continue for miles. He has no hurry to leave the van, either. He just sits there, frozen, unable to do anything. Jace can feel his nervous energy buzzing in the air, and he wants to help him somehow.

“I can go alone, if you want,” Jace offers, offhandedly and casually. He wants to give him the freedom of choice. It is the least he can do.

Simon looks at him strangely, as if he was considering the offer, but then he shakes his head. “No, we are doing this together,” he says, before he steps outside.

“It’s going to be fine,” Jace tells him as he reaches his side. Simon holds a small and quite badly drawn map in one hand and an empty vial in the other.

Simon’s eyes flash with doubt, and he might have a good point. Jace cannot promise him that nothing is going to happen. Seelies are cruel and manipulative and they enjoy playing games with people’s minds. They happen to be very protective of their territory and the half-places that are inbetween of realms might be full of traps.

Jace fishes his stele out of the pocket of his jacket and he activates his focus, soundless and energy runes. He swirls his seraph blade in his hand, making Simon sputter out a tiny and short laugh, but it is good enough for Jace.

He starts to follow one of the paths that Simon thinks is the correct one, and Simon follows right behind him. The walk should not be too long, at least according to the instructions, but Jace wants to walk slowly and keep track of their surroundings. The last thing they need is getting captured by the seelies, again.

He almost misses nearly transparent trap wire near the ground, but when he notices it, he stops immediately, making Simon bump into him.

Simon mutters his apologizes even though it is not his fault but when he spots the wire, he looks at him and seems more perplexed and anxious than before. “It’s a trap,” Jace explains, and cautiously cuts the wire with his blade. A huge net appears beneath the soil, closes itself shut and hangs from one of the branches of the trees. It is empty expect for the leaves and some sticks.  It swings from side to side and both of them just stare at it.

They walk around the net. Jace sees from the corner of his eye the anxious and worried glances Simon gives to the net and not for the first time Jace wonders what they did to him in the Seelie realm. He sort of wants to ask, but he knows it is not his place to do that.

They continue in silence and soon they reach the small lake. It is dizzyingly beautiful. It is completely still, mirroring the sky blue like an actual mirror, and the banks of it are covered in vibrant red and orange water flowers. It is captivating and it feels as if the time is slowing down, and it takes Jace a few moments to realise that the Seelie magic is stronger than he expected.

He grabs the vial from Simon’s hand. He does not even seem to notice it. He just merely keeps staring at the lake with a strange expression. He seems almost hypnotised.

He kneels next to the waterfront and up-close, it is obvious there is something wrong with the lake, something unnatural. The water is not clear and he cannot see the bottom of it. He cautiously fills the vial with the water and immediately after gets further away from the water. It seems perilous.

“Let’s go,” Jace tells him quietly, and just to be sure, he grabs him by his wrist and drags him behind him.

***

Simon did not want to sleep anywhere near the lake, and Jace understood it, so Simon drove half way to their next destination, an old and abandoned cave in New Jersey, and parked the van to a desolated camping site.

He is noticeably quieter than usually. Every time Jace tries to start talk to him, he comes up with something else to do. He is not being rude, but he is definitely looking for distractions. Reasons not to talk to him. He lets Simon go to the camping site’s only shower first, and as soon as he comes back, he tells him he is going to sleep.

Jace takes it as a hint that he wants to be alone and he wants his own space, but it is difficult to give that in a van, so Jace takes his time in the shower, even though it is already dark and possibly past midnight.

The shower is narrow and smells stuffy. The water pressure cannot be even described as pressure and the water is cold even though he turns the thermostat to warmer. All in all, the shower is terrible but he still takes his time because he needs to form a plan how to help Simon feel better and the water usually helps him think.

He does not come up with anything that would help. When he returns back to the van, Simon is genuinely asleep, and some level he is grateful, because he is still helpless with the words, and Jace tries to as quietly as he can to lie down as well. As soon as he lies down, Simon unconsciously throws his arm over him, and his heart skips a few beats but nobody needs to know it. By some miracle, he falls asleep.

***

Jace does not know what wakes him up, but he slowly wakes up. He keeps blinking and confusingly staring at the ceiling of the van before he realises where he is and why. He tries to get up, but all his mind can focus on is the fact that he is alone and he cannot see Simon anywhere.

The door of the van is slightly open, and Jace immediately gets up and out of the car. It is still dark outside, the stars are shining above him, and the cold air greets him immediately. It does not take him long to spot Simon. He is sitting at one of the old and dirty garden chairs of the site and he is looking up, seemingly looking at the night sky.

“Hey, you okay?” Jace asks as he sits next to him on equally dirty chair.

“Nightmares,” Simon replies quietly after a moment of silence, not looking at him.

“What happened to the whole ‘wake me up if you have a nightmare’ thing?” he asks, genuinely curious and he tries not to feel any sort of disappointment for the fact that he did not wake him up.

“That was your promise, not mine,” Simon remarks with a joyless smile.

“That should have been a two-way contract,” Jace mutters, and the corner of his mouth twitches a little. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Simon sighs. “The lake just brought some unpleasant memories up. Maia keeps telling me that I haven’t resolved my trauma and I should talk about it,” he says as he kicks a nearby small rock with the tip of his shoe.

“She’s smart,” Jace points out, “and correct.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. I never talk about any of my issues and keep piling them up,” Simon shoots back, and even though it sounds kind of mean, Jace knows he does not mean it in a cruel way.

“You may have a point somewhere there,” Jace admits with a huff that resembles more a laugh. “How’s Maia?”

“Good, I guess,” Simon says, now focusing on a stain on the arm rest of the chair, “we kind of broke up. The whole Jordan thing made her realise that she has her own share of unresolved trauma and it’s the kind of thing she needs to deal by herself. She needed space and all of that and I understand it,” he explains and his voice is filled with sorrow.

“That sucks,” Jace replies empathetically. He kind of wants to comfort him through a touch but his chair too far away from his.

“Yeah, it does. I guess it’s one of those right people at wrong time things,” Simon says, sounding defeated and tired.

Jace nods, understanding completely. He had been once convinced that Clary was the one for him, but then so much happened and they sort of fell out of sync. Thinking they were siblings and resurrection and possession on top of everything else just made their relationship into a puzzle where none of the pieces fit each other.

Magnus had told him that Lilith had made him drink a potion that was supposed to make him fall out of love with Clary, but Jace is not sure if there ever was love to which fall out of.

Simon is still meticulously trying to scratch the stain off with his nails.

“Do you need something?” Jace asks, little awkwardly and helplessly. Comforting others is not his strongest skill, but he still likes to try when it comes to Simon. He senses he does not want to elaborate his nightmare any further and he is not going to force him.

“No,” Simon says, gently, shaking his head but there is softness in his half-smile, “this is good,” he adds, gesturing between them.

It is serene night and Jace loses the track of time as they sit there, watching the dark sky and bright stars, in silence.

***

The road to the cave is downright terrible. It is full of different sizes of rocks and it is covered in large bumps that make the van sway from side to side. Only their seatbelts keep them on their seats and Jace can hear how the rest of their belongings jump and bump against the walls of the van.

At one point, he glances out of the window, just to make sure they are still on the road.

The road is excruciatingly long and seems never ending, but when they finally reach the beach and the cave, he is sure he has at least five bruises from hitting his arm against the door.

“We’re here, finally,” Simon says, as they stand outside of the van, looking at the empty beach and huge waves of the grey ocean. The wind is blowing sand everywhere and the clouds are dark grey. Luckily, the cave is near and they do not have to hike again.

“So why does this count as one of the ingredients?” Simon asks, almost shouting against the wind, and the wind is ruffling his hair to every single possible direction.

“People apparently used to think this was an entry to hell,” Jace says, scooping the sand from inside of the cave into another vial, but most of it is gone with the wind, “Magnus says it counts as an entry to a different world, so maybe there’s some truth to it.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Simon says, frowning, as he stares at the darkness of the seemingly endless cave. The wind howls in it.

Jace stands up and hands the vial to him. Simon looks almost delighted as he looks at it closer. “Only two to go. Memory and blood ones, which both sound like a lot of fun.”

Jace snorts. “Speaking of blood, when have you last eaten?”

He asks it almost as conversationally, but as he says it, he realises that he has not seen him feed during their trip.

Simon’s face falls a little, apparently coming to the same realisation. “It has been a while, but I’ve couple bags of blood there,” he says, pointing at the van.

Jace opens the front door of the van and stores the sand with the rest of the ingredients to his bag.

“We may have a small problem,” Simon tells him, his voice muffled as he is at the back of the van. Jace looks over the front seat and sees him holding two bags of blood. The other one is empty and has a huge hole on the side of it. Jace only guesses it must have hit something sharp in his bag and the contents of the bag are somewhere spilled. The other one is half-empty and drops of blood keep falling out of it.

“One of the blankets is also ruined,” Simon announces, matter-of-factly, as if it mattered, before drinking the other bag empty.

“Was that enough?”

“For a moment. But for an indefinite visit to realms of hell? No,” Simon tells, and his frown deepens. “I could try to hunt some small animal, but I don’t like doing that, and it takes time and we’ve spent so long already on the ingredients and I’m worried about Clary and-,” he rambles, looking at the empty bag wistfully.

“Clary’s tough,” Jace says, reminding him mostly, but also himself, too, “she knows how to handle herself, even in Edom. And for the blood part,” Jace says, rummaging through his bag and pulls out a full bag of blood and tosses it to him.

He took one of them with him from the emergency storage of the institute, just in case Simon would ever need it.

Simon looks at it confused, as if he could not figure out why Jace has it in the first place, but eventually he rips it open and drinks it. Jace realises that maybe there is some sort of irony to the fact that they keep taking more care of each other’s needs than their own.

“If you need more,” Jace says, pushing the sleeve of his jacket away, revealing his wrist.

“I’m good and no, we are not doing that again, like ever.” Simon says, pointing at his wrist, as he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

“Are you saying I taste bad?” Jace laughs, as bends over his bag to make sure all of their vials are still intact and that none of them broke like the blood bags.

“That’s an irrelevant point,” Simon sounds almost exasperated, “better points are that I could have killed you the last time and you still have scars from it.”

Jace glances at his very faint, small and round scars on his wrist. He has no idea how Simon has noticed them in the first place.

“Also, there are a bunch of side effects and none of them are enjoyable or fun,” he says, keeping proving his point, and Jace’s heart skips a beat because they never talked about those after the last time. It is the first time Simon has mentioned them to him.

He glances at him, but it seems that he is not trying to imply anything with his comment.

Everybody was so flabbergasted by the fact that he could walk in daylight that nobody had the time to question why Jace was not acting any differently, not acting like a love sick puppy, around him. He hopes Simon never realises that there was no sudden bursts of affection and want, because they existed already somewhere deep and nothing about them is sudden or caused by any bite.

The affection is underlying, a part of him, and it comes as naturally as his own heartbeat.

***

Magnus texts them the details and address of the warlock who is ready to perform the spell. He tells them to head there even if they do not have all of the ingredients because she most likely can help them with the missing ones.

Luckily, the drive lasts only a couple of hours, but when they arrive to the address they received, they only find a forest and a narrow path that leads somewhere into the woods. It is drizzling and the weather is generally blustery and Jace cannot shake off the feeling that there is something seriously wrong with the forest. Every instinct he has is screaming not to go there.

Simon groans as he sees it. “Would it really be asking too much that if some of these things would be actually at the roadside? What is it with forests?”

“Keeps people who don’t belong there away,” Jace says, matter-of-factly, even though he is growing frustrated, too.

It is cold, the rain is freezing, and it hurts his face as the drops hit his skin.

They start walking along the path and the supposed yard is filled with different size trees and bushes. Generally, it does not look like a yard, at all. Nothing indicates that they would have arrived to the right place. It looks like an uninhabited forest, and Jace guesses that is one of the reasons he lets his guard down.

He does not expect the area to be trapped, but when he sees something shiny and small flying towards them from inbetween the bushes, he realises he should have expected it.

He shoves Simon away from whatever the trap is, making him fall down and Jace falls on top of him. Simon groans softly and Jace tries not to make a sound because something sharp made its way to flesh of his thigh and it is now throbbing with pain.

He is trying not to grimace out of pain because Simon’s face is so close to his, and he keeps staring at him oddly. Jace cannot even begin to guess what the emotion in Simon’s eyes is and his own gaze keeps darting and lingering on his lips.

He wants to kiss him, it is his first and only thought. With another person, he would kiss them right there and then if he even wanted to kiss them nearly as much he wants to kiss him. Yet, he knows that it is not something Simon wants, so he just rolls from top of him and lies on the cold and damp ground filled with moss, trying to focus more on his injured leg than Simon.

“I have a dart in my leg,” Jace mutters, half to himself, but Simon seems to hear it as well, because he is immediately up and examining his wound. They cannot see much of it. The fabric of his trouser has been torn by the dart and the puncture wound keeps bleeding. The edges of the wound, right around the dart, are seeming almost black and it seems to be spreading.

“I’m sorry,” Simon mutters, sounding like his mouth would be full of food, but it is just his fangs that came out at the sight of the blood and he is attempting to hide them and force them away.

“It’s okay,” Jace tells him honestly. He is not bothered by his fangs, he never has been, and he has more urgent matters to think about like the agonizing pain in his leg. It is literally the last thing he is thinking about. The pain is all-consuming and as it is getting worse, it is all he is able to think about.

“Use one of those healing runes,” Simon suggests, as he frowns looking at the blood that keeps forming a puddle underneath his injured leg.

“Those don’t work with poison,” he explains, as he examines the wound as well as he can. The trousers are damp with his own blood and the pain is getting excruciating. Small spots appear in his vision and he has a feeling that he might faint at any given moment, so the only plausible explanation is that the dart was poisoned.

“Has anyone ever thought that it might be a major designing flaw?”

“Just about everyone who has ever died of poisoning,” Jace manages to deadpan, but he notices his breathing is getting heavier and speaking is gradually becoming slower, as if he was speaking in a foreign language and not knowing or remembering all of the vocabulary.

“You’re an idiot,” Simon mutters quietly, gently touching the leg, “why did it you took it for me? I’m basically indestructible with the mark. The dart would have probably poisoned itself.”

Jace is aware that Simon is talking and he asked a question, but it takes him a moment to get back on track with his thoughts. Honestly, he did not think about the mark. He did not remember that Simon did not need any sort of protection. He just wanted to keep him safe. It was his first instinct and thought. Maybe it was not logical, but it was the only thing he was able to think about.

He has no energy to tell him any of it. He shrugs as well as he can lying on the damp ground. Simon rolls his eyes at him, but there is something genuinely worried about the way he looks at him.

His mind is foggy and he has trouble focusing, but suddenly he has an idea. “Put--some of my blood to the vial--it’s willingly sacrificed,” he tells him, slowly, realising it himself as he speaks and end ups laughing weakly.

Simon does as he is told, but Jace is pretty certain he keeps calling him an exasperating and insufferable idiot under his breath, but that might be just the delusions from the poison.

“I need to get you to that cottage,” Simon decides, standing up and walks in a circle, apparently looking around. “There’s some building.”

He helps Jace on his feet and throws his arm over his shoulder, and honestly, he is carrying most of his weight and just dragging him along.

“I could do this by myself,” Jace slurs, because for some reason, it feels urgent that Simon knows it, too.

Simon laughs softly. “Sure thing, buddy.”

Jace does not know how long it takes them to reach the cabin, he kind of loses the track of time and he might have blacked out a couple of times, but he is not going to tell Simon about it.

The door opens before they even have the opportunity to knock it. A woman walks out of the wooden cottage and keeps looking at them with great intensity. She looks a lot older than Magnus does, she looks almost forty, but her black and thick hair is done in a tight bun and she wears a bright yellow dress and a pair of wellington boots. The choice of colour make her dark skin glow and she seems unbothered by the rain.

“Oh, Magnus did not tell me you’re a daylighter,” the woman says with a warm and pleasant voice. She steps inside of the cottage and gestures them to follow.

The cottage itself is warm and cosy, except for the fact that somebody has rolled the carpet away and drawn a pentagram to the floor. Simon helps him sit on one of the huge armchairs, but even when he is sitting down, it feels as if the room is spinning.

Simon does not leave his side, but he straightens up.  “Can you heal him?” He asks almost immediately as he turns around to face the warlock.

“I could but I won’t,” the woman tells cheerfully, as she kneels to make corrections to the pentagram. She gets up and wipes her hands with a kitchen towel. “Where are my manners? My name is Cecile,” she tells, casually, shaking Simon’s hands.

Simon stares at him, dumbfounded. “What do you mean no?”

“He is a dumbass and he has caused his own condition,” she points out, sounding very unbothered by the fact that Jace might die on one of her armchairs.

“Yeah maybe so, but he has a dart in his leg from _your_ trap,” Simon tries to argue.

“He is still a dumbass who triggered my trap,” she concludes, as she organizes a few glass jars full of different coloured liquids to another order. It seems like a pointless activity to Jace.

“He took it for me,” Simon says, as if it would make any difference, but sounds almost sorrow as he says it.

“Sure, he is a self-sacrificing and romantic dumbass, but a dumbass nevertheless,” she says, now looking at him. Jace has trouble keeping his eyes open, but he still feels as if Cecile is looking at him with pity as if she thought he was an idiot.  

“I don’t disagree with the dumbass part,” Simon eventually agrees, sounding slightly annoyed and angry, but somehow Jace is not sure if the anger is directed at him or not. He hopes not, but he is too tired actually to care.

“Hey,” Jace tries to protest, but only a very weak and obscure sound comes out of his mouth. His vision is starting to blur and he feels strangely numb and lightheaded.

“She has a point, and you know it,” he whispers to him, lightly poking him in the arm, and Jace wants to argue against it but his mouth refuses to work.

“But daylighter, let’s talk about something more interesting. I can grant you a one wish free. Anything you want. Just say it, and it’s yours,” Cecile says, walking towards him and smiling almost too pleasantly. Her smile seems wicked and sinister.

“Why?”

“Daylighters are rare, you must have noticed that by now. It might be handy at some point if I know you owe me a favour,” she explains, tapping the surface of the wooden table behind her.

“That’s not how ‘free’ works,” Simon points out, frowning.

If Jace’s mouth would work, he would tell him not to agree on anything because owning favours to people is never good. It is always a tricky business and ends up ruining lives or at least putting them in danger.

“Tomayto, tomahto,” Cecile tells her, shrugging and making a vague gesture with her hand.

Jace starts to think about everything a wish could fix in his life. All of the things he might ask for, but he does not get very far with his list because Simon tells his answer almost immediately.

“Heal Jace,” he tells him with finality, and it takes him a moment to comprehend what he just said because it was not one of the things he thought about it. It would have not made it into the top 10 list either. It is an unexpected answer.

“That is your wish?” Cecile questions, her eyebrows arched high, as if she would have trouble believing it. Jace cannot blame her for that. He is almost sure he is hallucinating his answer.

Jace tries to tell him no, because he is not worth it and he does not want to be the reason again why the pile of Simon’s problems keeps growing, but only incomprehensible series of sounds come out of his mouth.

“Yeah, heal him,” Simon tells him more quietly this time, but he still sounds as sure about it as he possibly can. He moves away from his chair to give Cecile the space she needs.

“Fine, I’ll heal your dumbass,” she sighs. She pulls the dart away quickly, causing waves of pain travel all over his leg. Jace really thinks he is going to pass out. She does a few elaborate hand moves and a green sparkles appear first and then bright green light follows, and suddenly the pain is gone.

His thoughts are getting clearer by the each moment and most of the exhaustion disappears, too. The leg still feels odd, it is tingling, but the wound is no longer black around the edges.   

Simon is already back by the chair and he is gently cupping his face and just holding it in his hands, and looking at him straight into the eyes. His touch is surprisingly warm and tender. Jace cannot help but think the night he found him in the middle of the rubble and the relief he felt. He wonders if Simon feels the same way now.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, and his eyes are telling all of his emotions from worry to relief and disbelief.

“Yeah,” Jace says but his voice is still hoarse. He knows he should thank him but he does not know how to do it when it is about saving his life. He still gives him an apologetic smile.

Simon mock punches him in the arm. “Don’t ever do that again to me,” he sounds deadly serious as he tells it to him.

“Same goes for you,” he says, glancing meaningfully at Cecile who is grinning at them and she looks thrilled, and it is slightly unnerving. He cannot shake the feeling off guilt, so he keeps glaring at Simon.

“You’re worth it,” Simon concludes quietly and almost harshly, apparently fully being aware of the possible consequences of what he has done, but there is no edge of regret in his voice. Jace wonders what he has done to earn Simon think that highly of him.

Jace is loss at words, but he still needs the urge to tell him that he is wrong with that assessment.

“Congratulations, you passed the test,” Cecile announces, and does a few more waves of hands and all of the ingredients they have collected suddenly appear on her table.

“What?”

“I cannot help everyone who wants to enter Edom,” she says, as if it was the obvious explanation. “Not everyone’s intentions are good and Edom is a powerful place full of destruction and some want to take advantage of it in the worst way. So I have created a test, a choice between getting something one has always wanted or losing something they already have.”

“That’s kind of smart,” Simon muses, looking at her as she mixes the ingredients in a huge stone bowl.

It is effective, Jace thinks, but he cannot help but think that is it also almost cruel. Giving people false hope and tormenting them with a choice is horrible. He does not what to think the implications of Simon’s immediate choice. He knows he only did it because he is a good person who will not let or allow others die because of him.

Maybe that is the difference between them, but Jace knows he would have made the same choice if it were Simon who was hurt, so he is not sure if he even has the right to be angry or frustrated with him. Maybe he is more annoyed with himself for getting into that situation.

“The choice tells a lot about a person,” she tells, glancing both of them as she steers the awful looking liquid in the bowl, “and their relationship. So how long have you been together?”

“It’s- we’re not together like that,” Simon stammers, looking at the table instead of him or her.

Jace is so taken aback by the question that it takes him a minute to find his voice. He coughs a little. “Exactly.”

He does not know what made Cecile come to that conclusion, but he sort of wants to know. Jace hopes it is not because he is being so obvious with his feelings, but it cannot be that. He has known her for ten minutes and for majority of it, he was half-conscious and drugged with poison. She could not have figured it out in so short time when it took himself weeks to realise it. 

Simon seems mostly unbothered by the question.

“You remind me of me and my wife when we were younger,” she tells them gently, before muttering a spell and the green light appears again, this time in the bowl. “We were always bickering and protecting each other, and we still do that.”

Jace does not know what to say, so he remains quiet.

“That sounds nice,” Simon comments, almost wistfully, and smiles one of his warmest smiles. “What about the last ingredient? The memories?” He asks pointing at the bowl, which is now filled with dark smoke.  

“It’s a simple spell and it won’t hurt. It might make you a little disorientated, but you won’t even know which memory is gone. It might be old or recent, but it is something that is a happy memory and involves someone you care about deeply.”

She leaves the bowl to the table and walks up to Simon. “Ready?”

He merely nods and she mutters another complicated sounding spell before snapping her fingers in front of his forehead. A bright cloud of light appears out of nowhere, she directs it to the direction of the bowl, and it dissolves with the smoke.

“Wow,” Simon whispers as he holds his forehead and blinks a few times. He looks dazzled.

Cecile is already standing in front of him and she performs the same spell to him. It does not hurt, but it still feels as if he is losing a piece of himself. He feels lost and knows something is missing, but he cannot tell what. It is frustrating.

She walks back to the bowl, another cloud of light dissolves into the smoke, and it becomes lighter shade of grey. Green sparks appear from her fingertips and she keeps chanting a spell until the smoke clears away.

She takes the bowl and kneels next to the pentagram and she draws it again, but this time she uses the substance from the bowl. It looks underwhelming, considering the effort it took to collect the ingredients. It looks like sand, except it is black and not as smooth.

When she is finished, she snaps her fingers and the pentagram catches fire. Long and bright flames surround the circle.

“Into the fire you go,” she says, gesturing them to walk into the flames.

Simon shoots him a doubtful look and Jace cannot blame him. He is not exactly keen to be engulfed by flames, either, but he does not see any other option, even if the whole seems more and more a colossal mistake.

He cautiously steps forward, bracing himself for the heat and pain, but nothing happens as he steps into the ring of fire. The flames are harmless and merely tickle as he walks through them. Simon follows him immediately behind.

“That’s so weird,” he exclaims, staring at the flames with confusion. He puts his hand briefly into the flames but it apparently still does not burn him.

“I hope you will be safe,” Cecile tells them with a genuinely sweet smile, but it is hard to look at her because the flames cover half of her face and they are surprisingly bright. “Also, you might want to hold hands so you won’t get separated.”

Jace cannot tell if she is kidding or not, but Simon still grabs his hand tightly and intertwines their fingers little clumsily.

Jace is glad he does it because he is more afraid than he likes to admit and his touch is soft and comforting, especially when Cecile says something he cannot understand and the world around them disappears.

 

   

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took longer to write than I expected to, but then again, this ended up being longer than I expected and then I got heartbroken over the fact that they cancelled shadowhunters. Also, I know very little about usa geography and how long it takes to drive from places there, so it might be little inaccurate. All the mistakes are mine. I hope chapter 3 does not take this long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took, once again, a lot longer than I thought, but it is finally here! Thank you for everyone who has left kudos and nice comments, it means the world to me!

When Cecile prompts them to hold hands, Simon decides to go with it because any situation is scientifically improved by hand holding, even entering to a realm of hell.

While the flames of the fire ring did not burn or hurt in any way, moving from realm to realm hurts a lot. It is as if someone was pushing thousands of tiny needles into his skin and as if his skin was still burning at the same time. He cannot help but groan.

The pain is excruciating, and Jace’s hand slips away from his, but luckily the pain only lasts for a minute, before Simon loses his balance finds himself on his knees in a place he has never seen before.

The ground is red and just entirely composed of rough sand. He cannot see any trees or plants, just large rocks here and there. The sky is as red as the ground and it still has orange clouds and some creatures that have wings and keep flying above them. It is windy, but the wind is not cold, but almost scorchingly hot.

Jace stands right next to him, he obviously did not lose his balance even with the injured leg. He keeps looking at the horizon that seems to go on forever, and the wind is pushing his hair against his forehead.

He glances at him, flashing an almost amused smile, before offering his hand to help him up. Simon takes it and lets him pull him back on his feet. He tries to swipe away the red dust away from his jeans but it is pointless.

“This is like some twisted version of jurassic park,” Simon says, still trying to take in all of their surroundings.

“Yeah, no, I have no idea what you just said.”

Simon opens his mouth, but then abruptly closes it again. He does not know why he is surprised. He points at him with his finger. “After we are done, driving lessons and then a movie marathon.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jace replies, seemingly trying to be nonchalant but Simon sees the tiny but delighted smile that lingers on his lips maybe for a second, and maybe for a second something tingles in the bottom of his stomach.

One of their back bags appear right behind them and Jace squats down to rummage through it until he finds a piece of fabric. He straightens up and hands it to Simon. It does not take long for him to realise it is one of Clary’s old t-shirts. It’s navy blue and worn-out. The fabric feels soft against his fingers.

The sudden longing and fear washes over him and he is almost eager to give the shirt back to Jace. Having a concrete reminder of Clary is nearly too much to deal right now.

Jace takes it back, holding it in a bundle, and he draws a rune on it but it disappears as soon as he finishes drawing it. He clenches his fist around the shirt tightly and lets out a low and frustrated sigh before gritting his teeth together.

“We’ll figure out something else,” Simon tries to reassure, but the words sound empty to his ears as well. He looks around, a little helplessly, not knowing what else they could even try. Tracking was their best and only plan.

“We can probably assume that nothing works,” Jace mutters as he shoves the t-shirt back to the bag. He takes his seraph blade from his belt and examines it closer by running his slender fingers over the blade. The blade does not have its usual blueish glow. It merely reflects the red sand.  

“At least it’s still sharp,” Jace points out matter-of-factly, and Simon snorts quietly. “I guess we’re on our own,” he says slightly sharply.

It is obvious that Jace is not pleased with their current situation, but somehow Simon does not feel nearly as disencouraged as he does. He is not sure if it is because he actually believes they can pull this off or if his mind refuses to accept the hopelessness of their situation.

“Which way you want to go?” Simon asks, feeling dumb, because the horizon retches as far as they can see. The whole place seems desolated and there is nothing that could indicate which way is the correct one.

He briefly wonders how immense Edom can be and how hopeless it is to find a one specific person from there, but his train of thought is cut short because Jace keeps staring at him with disbelief on his face.

“What?” He asks with a smile curling up on his lips, “you’re the one who always brags that nothing gets past your instincts and your gut feeling tells you everything you need to know, so use them.”

Jace closes his eyes and shakes his head, looking mostly amused but also as if he was suffering greatly.

“That way,” he says eventually, pointing to his left.

“Okay,” Simon says, nodding, “do I even want to hear the very scientific arguments behind your decision?”

“No, you don’t,” Jace tells him as he picks up the bag.

They walk slowly, because Jace keeps staring at the creatures flying and circling above them. The creatures keep screeching and the sound is so horrible it makes Simon shudder every time he hears it.

“We should try to avoid those,” Jace tells him, pointing at the flying demons with the tip of his blade, but he sounds uncertain as if he did not believe they could avoid encounters with them.

“Yeah, sounds smart,” he comments. He would rather just get as far away as he can from them and he sees nothing wrong with the plan of just avoiding them as well as they can. It is a great plan.

He accidently glances at Jace, who looks more anxious than he has seen him to look in a very long time. “What?”

“I don’t even know if I can kill them because we’re in their home realm, they won’t just disintegrate if I stab them,” he explains, seeming distraught, as he keeps his eyes on the demons.

Simon steps a few steps closer to Jace, even though he is already almost walking right next to him. He nudges his shoulder. “Let’s just avoid any situations that involves stabbing and we’ll be fine. I mean that seems like generally a good rule to live by.”

“Yeah,” he says, sucking in his breath, and he shakes his arms and stretches his neck, and suddenly any trace of uncertainty and anxiety disappears from his face. His jaw is set and he looks eerily calm, almost bored, and the confidence shines from his eyes, as if it was a piece of cake to hike across the realm of hell.

It is almost frightening to see how easily and smoothly he puts on a brave face and completely masks all of his emotions. It is surprisingly heart-breaking and Simon kind of wants to tell him that he does not have to do that, not because him at least, but he does not know how to do tell him that.

Instead, he just stares at him for a moment, before fixing his gaze on the endless horizon. The heat does not bother him at all, thanks to his undead body, but the wind is a completely different thing. The hot wind keeps blowing sand at them and he is rubbing his eyes, when he catches movement from the corner of his eye.

He blinks his eyes burning eyes, but he still sees how one of the demons with wings dives towards them. The demon is coming towards him, fast, and the panic is rising in his throat and his whole body feels numb, even though he knows the mark will protect him.

The thought reassures him slightly, until he realises that the mark protects him and only him, leaving Jace alone with a sharp glowing stick that does not even work properly. He tries to push Jace behind him, but he is no longer next to him, and his hand fumbles only air.

His panic rises up, until he realises that Jace is actually standing right in front him, but the realisation is not calming him in any way, it only makes his panic worse because Jace is shielding him with his own body. He is waving his blade and actually manages to drive it through the demon’s chest.

The creature lets out a strident scream and there is some kind of black goo glucking out of the wound, but just as Jace predicted, the demon disappears nowhere. It screeches more and flaps its wings and actually manages to rise higher.

Simon is sure the creature will fall on top of them and crush them, but by some miracle, it is still capable of flying, even though Jace’s blade is still sticking out from its chest. The demon sounds angry and Simon braces himself for another attack, but instead the creature flies away from them and rest of the demons follow.

Simon staggers slightly and lets himself fall on the ground. The feeling of relief is so intense and strong that he does not rely on his legs working. Jace stands there, calmly, looking at the demons that are flying further away by the minute.

“We no longer have a seraph blade,” he announces, sounding almost sombre about the recent development.

“You’re an idiot,” Simon tells him, as he rubs his face with his palms. He lets his hands fall and hugs his knees as he lets himself calm down.

Jace looks plain confused. “For losing the blade?”

Simon rolls his eyes. “For doing that,” he says, a little unhelpfully, with a vague hand gesture towards him, “for running head towards danger because of me. Don’t do that anymore,” he says, desperately.

“That’s what I do,” Jace replies, almost offhandedly, with a small shrug. Simon understands that running towards danger without thinking about it is the premise of being a shadowhunter, but he huffs in frustration because Jace is missing the point.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he mutters, sounding a lot more bitter than he intends, but it catches his attention.

Jace squats next to him, attempting to look at him in the eyes, but Simon decides to look at the ground. He draws small circles with his finger into the sand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, kinda,” he mutters, “but you got to stop doing that. You’re a really emotionally draining partner for this roadtrip. Doing reckless stuff to protect me, it’s pointless. I can take care of myself, thanks to this,” he explains, touching his forehead again.

Simon is sure he is imagining it, but he thinks Jace looks almost hurt after he says it, but it does not last for long because he does again the thing where he hides any emotion he might feel. He is shutting him off, and somehow it is even worse.

“I try not to do it again,” Jace answers calmly, but there is a certain coldness in his voice, and Simon sighs because this is the opposite of what he wanted to happen.

He does not know what to do, so he just grabs Jace’s arm to prevent him from moving away. “It’s just--I’m not saying I don’t need you or that we would be better off alone, ‘cause that’s not true. I’m maybe the least equipped person to do any of this, and I still think we make a great team.”

Simon is kind of surprised he still has not pulled his hand away. He rubs it slightly with his thumb. “I cannot deal with the idea of you getting hurt because of me. It’s already my fault that Clary is in this place and I don’t want you to die in a some hell realm ditch because you try to save me from something,” he explains quietly.

Simon feels how the tension leaves Jace’s body under his touch. “First of all, I’m not gonna die in a ditch.”

Simon gives him a sad smile. “If you do, I’ll tell you that I told you so.”

Jace flashes him a grin. “Second of all, it’s not your fault that Clary is here. Not at all, so stop thinking it,” he tells him softly. “And if something happens to me, it’s not your fault or responsibility.”

“It kind of feels like it when you’re throwing yourself in front of darts and demons because of me,” he points out with a joyless laugh.

Jace shrugs slightly, but Simon knows he knows he has a point. “It’s almost automatic, you know. To be the first one to face the danger and I know you have your mark, but I wasn’t sure if it works in here and I wasn’t about to conduct a scientific experience if it ends in you being shredded by a demon.”

Simon stares at him. There is a lot in there he could pick up and talk about, but he does not find the words. Jace catches him staring, but he still cannot stop. He bites down a smile and glances down at his arm, which Simon is still grabbing, but he does nothing about it.

Simon did not even consider about the possibility of the mark not working and it is a terrible thought, almost frightening, even though he wants to get rid of the mark, but still the thought makes him stop for a moment.

“I appreciate you having my back, but I’d appreciate a lot more if you stayed alive,” he tells him, sincerely, but with a smile.

“Duly noted,” he says, slowly, and now he is staring at their dirty shoes and shifts slightly uncomfortably. “I never really thanked you for what you did for me back there so, thank you,” his voice is quiet, and he still refuses eye contact, but he still knows he means it.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t really a big thing,” he reassures. The choice of choosing Cecile to save Jace was so obvious to him that it did not even feel like a choice. Sure, there are other things he could have asked for. Plenty of things he would like to change, but none of those would have been worth it if he had died.

“Still, you didn’t have to do it,” Jace insists, now looking at him and there is intensity in his gaze and it feels almost piercing as if he could see everything in him.

“You’re my friend,” Simon says simply, thinking that it justifies it all, but Jace keeps looking at him oddly, “and I’m not gonna let my friends suffer if it’s up to me and if you haven’t caught up, the whole idea of this conversation is that I’m not a big fan of you dying.”

Jace chuckles softly. “I’m a big fan of us both staying alive.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Simon agrees and to hell with it, he softly cups the other side of Jace’s face with his free hand because if he did it before, he can do it as well and they are literally in hell and they could die at any given moment.

The surprise shines from his eyes, but he lets it be for a moment, and they are quiet as they stare at each other, until screech of a demon pierces the air. It sounds muffled and far away, but it still breaks the bubble.

“Let’s get moving,” Jace tells him, before standing up.

***

They talk very little afterwards, only occasionally complaining about the wind or the uneven ground that makes Simon almost fall on his face a couple of times. He loses the track of time because no matter how much they walk, the surroundings stay exactly the same.

It is only after he notices that Jace is limping because of his hurt leg, he realises they might have walked for too long. He tries not to think about the fact that all of it might have been for nothing if they are getting further and further away from Clary.

“Break time,” he announces and just straight up sits down to the ground.

Jace looks puzzled but follows his lead and sits down a lot more gracefully, even though he tries to be careful with the wounded leg. He sighs in relief when he is finally on the ground.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Simon asks, nodding towards his leg.

“A bit,” he answers, but he is grimacing as he moves the shreds of his pants over the wound. Simon guesses he is not the type of the exaggerate his pain and complain about it.

He straightens his position to catch a glimpse of the wound. It looks a lot better than it did, but it is still slightly bleeding, red and swollen.

“At least the poison’s gone,” Jace mutters and starts poking the wound.

“Stop poking it, you’re making it worse,” Simon tells him, and drags himself closer to Jace and his leg. “You really have no idea how to deal with a wound, do you? You just use your runes and they disappear.”

Jace gives him a sheepish smile. “Generally, yes.”

“Lucky for you, I was eight when my mom forced me and Rebecca to go to one of those first aid courses for children,” he tries to keep his voice light, but even he hears how his voice breaks down a little when he mentions his mom. “And I know exactly what to do.”

He knows Jace definitely notices it, but he is more than grateful when he lets it slide and does not mention it. “You were eight over a decade ago,” Jace points out.

“And I have great memory,” he shoots back with a smug smile as he pulls Jace’s bag closer to him and rummages through it. “Our supplies are not so great.”

Jace merely snorts as a response.

He pulls out a water bottle and carefully pours some of the water on the wound to wash it. He hands the bottle to Jace. “Drink that,” he advices and gets back to going through the contents of the bag.

“Next time we go to hell, we bring a first aid kit with us,” he jokes as the only useful thing he finds is a packet of plasters. He chooses the one that looks large enough to cover the wound and carefully places it there.

“Good as new,” he declares with a brilliant grin and throws rest of the plasters into the bag.

Jace’s eyes dart between the plaster that is already stained by blood and Simon. “You just covered it.”

“Yeah and now nothing that is not supposed to go there won’t go there,” he explains. “You gotta let it heal the mundane way,” he laughs.

“Great,” he mumbles and he closes his eyes. His forehead is glistening with sweat and he looks paler than usually. Everything about him screams exhaustion.

“You should sleep,” he tells him gently. He can feel the exhaustion in his muscles as well but he knows Jace needs sleep more than he does.

For his surprise, Jace does not protest. He merely takes the bag and puts it under his head and uses it as a makeshift pillow and lies down in the sand and dirt.

He stares at the crimson red sky quietly, but somehow Simon still gets the vibe from him that he is slowly abandoning the hope of the rescue mission actually succeeding.

“We’ll find Clary tomorrow, or I don’t know if it is already tomorrow, it could very well be,” Simon rambles, truthfully, because he has no idea how long it has been since they arrived to Edom. “Do you think Edom has a similar day cycle as we have?”

Jace turns his head, and looks at him, with seemingly genuine curiosity and the similar kind of intensity than before, and Simon feels almost uncomfortable under his gaze, because it feels as if he could see right through him and notice how scared he actually is.

“Do you really feel that optimistic or is that just an act?” It is a harsh question, but his voice is not unkind, but it has no traces of joking or teasing, it is merely a genuine question.

It throws Simon off a little and he is almost speechless. He does not know what to answer. People usually do not comment on it. He knows he cracks dumb jokes in dangerous and serious situations and it exasperates some people, and that not all of his positivity is always based on anything.

It is just a thing he has always been good at. Making people laugh. Somehow along the way, it became his own coping mechanism. He kind of likes it because it reminds him of his dad. He used to be the same, making everyone laugh, and for a moment, Simon wonders if he unconsciously started doing the same after he died, but he cannot dwell on that thought for too long.

“I need to believe it,” he merely replies, not wanting to elaborate or dump all of that on Jace. He gives him a thin smile. “Not all of us can be as gloomy and brooding as you,” he attempts to joke weakly.

It is a truthful answer, the believing part, at least. He knows he will fall apart if he starts to think about all the things that could go wrong and how many things have already gone wrong. He is still grabbing the little amount of hope he has with both hands.

Jace chuckles and nods as he watches the sky again. “It’s good, nothing wrong with it,” he says to the sky.

“Yeah,” Simon eventually agrees, clueless what else he should say. It is not the worst coping mechanism he can think of.

Jace keeps quiet after that, occasionally closing his eyes but then opening them again. He does not have much luck with falling asleep.

“It’s weird,” he half muses, quietly, and it sounds as if he did not mean to say it aloud. He looks little dumbfounded as he stares the sky.

“What’s weird?” Simon asks, despite of all it, because his curiosity has awoken. He glances down on him.

Jace stays silent and Simon is convinced he is pretending that he did not hear him.

“Not having my seraph blade or active runes,” he finally tells, “I feel--useless without them.” His voice is small and weak as he tries to explain it, and the insecurity shines through of it. His mouth is twisting with emotion that is hard to recognise. It could be embarrassment or disappointment.

“The only thing I have is this small knife,” he adds, pulling a sharp and elegant knife from his left boot.

“Let’s hope demons are afraid of small knives,” Simon blurts out, jokingly, before he can think otherwise.

Jace snorts, but he does not smile. He looks almost absent minded as he keeps inspecting the knife. He does not look at him.

“But, uh, seriously speaking, you aren’t useless because you don’t have them. Your runes, weapons and angelic blood aren’t the only special things about you. You’re more than that,” he tells him, gently.

Jace looks at him strangely with a genuine puzzlement as if he had just told him the earth is flat. “Thank you,” he says, eventually, but it sounds as if he forces out the words. After saying it, he turns on his side, leaving Simon face his back.

***

There is not much to do once Jace actually falls asleep. It is quiet in Edom, which somehow makes it a lot creepier and he keeps jumping at every small noise he or Jace accidently make.

He cannot even see any movement and honestly, it is kind of lonely and he gets bored quickly. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, but unsurprisingly he has no reception. Yet, he does have one unread text from Izzy, saying Alec is alright.

He smiles at the text as the light of the phone screen illuminates his face. It is nice to know he is alright and it calms him to know that not everything is bad and terrible. He considers waking Jace up but he decides against it because he looks so peaceful.

It is weird to watch Jace sleep. It is generally strange to watch anyone sleep, but Jace looks so unguarded and vulnerable that it feels almost wrong to see him like that. It is too intimate. It feels as if he was crossing an invisible line that he should not be crossing, but then again the lines, unspoken rules and expectations between them seem to be merely a line drawn in sand, changing and shifting as their relationship does.

It is weird because he likes Jace and they actually work well together when they are not bickering about something pointless.

They are friends, have been for a while, but he still keeps saying things he does not mean to say, just blurting out honest thoughts, and somehow he always tells those to Jace. They are things he did not think he would tell him and he feels sometimes little awkward that he has, but yet he does not regret telling them, not at all.

Maybe it is because he trusts him. Jace does what he says he will and he keeps his promises. Maybe it is an unconscious reaction that he trusts him. He has gotten him out of many dangerous situations so maybe it is merely his instincts that tell him to trust him.

Yet, he is surprisingly kind. Sure, he does tease him mercilessly but he never intends to be mean. He never makes fun of things that actually matter, and he always teases him back. Sometimes, Jace looks at him with various degrees of amusement when he thinks he cannot see him, but he catches him staring occasionally, and even then he looks mostly fond.

They have had more heartfelt and serious conversations during their trip to Edom than ever and Simon cannot figure out why. It is a strong possibility that it is because both of them are on the edge of falling apart because of obvious reasons. Maybe he is gravitating towards Jace because he is the only familiar thing in the midst of unknows and uncertainty. It is like he is an anchor that keeps him grounded on reality.

He is unsure of _what_ it is and _why_ it is happening, but he knows something has changed between them. Everything feels a little different, and not necessarily in a bad way. He is drawn towards him and there is a different kind of spark when they keep talking. Whatever it is, it feels irreversible.

***

Simon has no idea how long Jace has slept, but he notices when he wakes up. He tosses and turns and his eyelids flutter before he opens them slowly. Simon finds himself staring into his different coloured eyes. Jace stares up at him blankly, before his lips curl up into a small but soft smile.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice hoarse probably from the sand.

“Hey,” Simon greets him back as Jace rubs his own neck as he sits up. “Izzy texted me earlier, Alec is awake and fine,” he tells him as the first thing because he feels it is urgent that he knows it, “he knows about what happened and what’s our plan and he said, and I quote ‘who let those idiots go by themselves.’”

Jace laughs and he sounds genuinely delighted, even though his smile is still sleepy and kind of loopy. “He is okay, then.”

They gather their belongings in silence and try to look around and decide which direction is the best, but everything still looks the same and they are as clueless as before. Jace informs that it is Simon’s turn to decide the direction, but as soon as he takes the first step, the ground grumbles beneath them and they fall into darkness.

***

The fall seems to last forever in Simon’s mind but he cannot feel anything else but a mix of wallowing panic and nausea. He wonders for a brief moment if they are meeting their fate because they fell into a manhole in hell, but he does not like the idea of that.

The fall is terrible and frightening, but the landing is not fun, either, because their fall is broken by hard and cold ground.

Simon groans as he falls on top of his right leg and it makes a disgusting snap sound. He hits his face on the ground with force, too, and he lies there because he has no energy even attempt to move.

Jace falls somewhere he cannot see, but he hears a thump and audible groaning and laboured breath. He can also smell the faint scent of blood again, and it is enough to make him move.

He pushes himself up, even though his arms ache. He turns around and sits, as he glances at his right ankle, which is twisted in a very concerning angle. Simon tries to move it, but as soon as he does, pain shoots up his leg.

He briefly looks around himself, only seeing orange and uneven rockside all around him. He does not focus on his surroundings for very long, because he spots Jace almost right next to him.

He does not dare to attempt walking with his probably broken ankle, so he just drags himself slightly closer.

“Are you okay?”

Jace lies on his stomach, his face against the ground. His hair hangs on his face, but Simon can still see that his left cheek is alarming shade of red and he probably will develop a bruise later.

The wound on his leg is bleeding again, staining his pants with fresh blood. Simon tries to fight against his fangs, but they still come out. Jace lies still, but he does not look as if he is in pain. He keeps staring at the rock wall with an expression that suggest that he is more than done with their current situation.

“Yeah,” he grunts, as he drags himself into a sitting position as well, “you aren’t,” he adds, as he sees his ankle.

Simon lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, I think I broke it,” he says, but because of the fangs it sounds as if he had a potato in his mouth.

Jace shakes his head and Simon half expects him to roll his eyes, but he does not. He keeps his gaze on his foot. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Only when I move it,” he tells him, “but you know, advanced healing, it’ll be fine soon,” he says, and he is not sure if he is convincing Jace or himself.

Jace nods, unsurely, and finally looks at their surroundings. Simon does the same and only then realises that they are in some kind of prison. Simon cannot understand how he did not notice it before. Probably because of the ankle, but still, it is a big thing not to notice.

It is a rather small place and not very high. Jace has managed to stand up and he almost hits his head on the ceiling. It looks as if the whole room was just carved out of a mountain side and some thick metal bars added on one side.

Simon has no idea where they are. He can see between the bars a corridor, but it is dimly lit, made out of the same rock and it seems to go on forever.

Jace runs his palm against one of the sides. “What happened?”

“We got captured,” he informs him, very unhelpfully, and he cannot help but grin as he says it.

“What a groundbreaking observation,” Jace deadpans.

Simon crawls towards the back wall, and luckily the distance is short, and leans his back against it. He takes Jace’s bag and places it under his injured foot. “Why does this happen to us?” He asks as he closes his eyes.

“Maybe,” Jace starts and sits down next to him, “because we were stupid enough to go poking around Edom without a plan.”

Simon snorts. “Maybe we had this coming.”

Silence falls between them. Jace takes his bag back for a second to get the plasters out and then gives it back to him. He wipes the fresh blood away and changes a new plaster. Simon can feel his fangs going away, and he is grateful, but he does not say anything.

Simon has about a million questions, but he does not voice them because he has a feeling that Jace does not know the answers to them. Who captured them? Why? How they will get out of the prison-esque thing?

He barely has the energy to think about the questions. The exhaustion caused by sleep deprivation and the throbbing pain in his foot are not helping him focus. He just wants to sleep, but he is not sure if prison in hell is the best place to do so. Probably not.

The longer he stares at the orange rock wall, the situation becomes more and more absurd in his mind. He is in hell, and that thought alone is hard to process, but not only that, he is stuck in some cage for unknown reasons and he is stuck there with Jace and both of them are injured. He has lost the track of length of their road trip, but getting captured is all they have achieved in several days.

Simon does not know if he should laugh or wallow in desperation.

“Are you still happy you found me in the middle of the ruins?” Simon jokes, breaking the silence, and gently nudging his arm.

The road trip has formed into a series of regrettable decisions and misfortunes and Simon would give up already if the end goal was not saving Clary.

“What?”

Jace looks genuinely perplexed. His brows are furrowed and he almost look as if Simon had spoken a language he cannot understand instead of English.

“That’s what ultimately brought us here,” Simon explains slowly, now being confused too, “the beginning of the series of the decisions that led us to being captured in hell.”

He tries to search Jace’s face for any sort of recognition or recollection of the memory, but he looks just plain confused and sort of upset. Simon starts to wonder whether he hit his head after fall and if he is suffering from a concussion.

“I remember looking for Clary,” he says, fidgeting with a small rock he found from the ground. He is scrunching his face. “And I remember being there with you, but I don’t remember how I ended up there or how I found you,” he says, unsurely.

There is a brief moment in which Simon has the time to question his own sanity, ability remember things and wonder if he is the one with the concussion. That prompts a whole another train of thought about whether vampires can get a concussion.

But then he figures it out. The realisation hits him hard.

The memory spell.

He gets so overwhelmed by the realisation that he cannot even say anything. His thoughts are a fumbling mess and he does not know what to do and whether Jace has figured out that it is his missing memory.

He does not have the energy to think about the implications of it, and as soon as he opens his mouth to say something, preferably to tell his conclusion, the door of their prison opens by itself.

“Come,” a booming and low voice instructs them out of the blue.

Jace is on his feet first for the obvious reasons. He picks the bag up and swings it onto his back. Then he helps him up and throws Simon’s arm over his shoulder, and helps him walk by letting him lean on him.

“Say if we’re going too fast,” he says as they step into the corridor. Simon wants to laugh because they are going so slowly that even a snail could get past them.

“Only if you say if your leg hurts too much,” he replies back, glancing sideways at him.

“Deal,” Jace says, grinning, and Simon cannot tell if he is hiding a grimace behind it.

A bright ball of light appears in front of them. It is levitating and glowing, slightly illuminating the walls around them and casting long shadows, and it starts to move further away from them with a slow pace.

“I guess we’re following the glowing cloud,” Jace mutters as they turn left from the first corner.

“You know the memory-,” Simon starts but Jace shakes his head.

“We can talk about it later,” he tells him, quietly, but not rudely, but definitely giving him the vibe he does not want to talk about it.

“Sure,” Simon agrees. It is not the most pressing matter, but it still bugs him. The thought is nagging in the corner of his mind.

They limp forward in silence afterwards. The corridors are long and narrow. They turn at least twenty times and there is always yet another corridor. It starts to feel like a labyrinth. It is a suffocating thought.

Finally, after one more turn, in the end of the corridor, he can see a huge and spacious room. It is filled with thick books and decorative pieces, like statues and sculptures and Simon has  no idea what they are supposed to be. None of them look quite human.

The room has a lot more light than the corridors, but most of it comes from torches so the air is filled with the scent of smoke and something burning. It makes him a little more nervous than he already is. There are no windows and the walls are made of the same orange rock as the walls of their cage.

The room is enormous enough, and filled with things that capture his interest and curiosity, that the last thing he spots is the throne and a man sitting on it. He looks human, but Simon is willing to bet that he is not.

He stands up graciously as soon as they stop in front of the throne. He is wearing a thick looking black rope that hangs on him, but he still seems tall and lean.

“So who dares to step into my kingdom uninvited?” He asks, descending the few steps from the podium where the throne is, and even though his voice seems polite, it seems like a threat even though it is just a question.

He is definitely inherently scary person. His smirk is not pleasant, it is sharp and vicious, and Simon has a feeling that he has a lot more power than he is willing to let on. Yet, there is something almost familiar about him.

“We apologize,” Jace hurries to say, and Simon is thankful because he has zero clue what to say. “We’re looking for our friend. We think she was accidently send to Edom when Lilith was forced to leave our world.”

“Ah, yes,” the man muses as if that would be enough to recognise them. “You’re the ones who killed one of my scouts,” he adds, and with a snap of his fingers, Jace’s seraph blade appears in his hand.

He throws it at them and it lands right in front of them with a clattering sound that echoes in the throne room. Jace looks at his blade, but he does not pick it up. He raises his gaze back up to their capturer.

The man sits back to his throne and taps the wooden armrest with his fingers. “It was unfortunate what happened, that Lilith was returned,” he tells them, conversationally.

The chit chat does not ease Simon’s mind at all. Knowing that the man would rather want Lilith returned into their world, causing havoc and destruction does not really make him feel convinced they will get away from this mess. He does not want to tell him he was the one who made Lilith come back.

“I rather liked her being away, but it was expected that she would return,” he muses, looking at his hand briefly. “But this friend of yours? A redhead?”

Simon nods slowly, icy terror filling his limbs and stomach, not knowing if he wants to hear what he has to say. He guesses Jace feels the same because he can feel his body tensing up.

“I encountered her a little while ago, she had a fighting spirit,” he tells them, and Simon is convinced he is toying with them, not telling everything he knows to push them into despair and panic, and it is working.

“Is she here?” Simon dares to ask, even though his own voice sounds foreign to him.

“No,” he shakes his head. “She and the boy escaped, which is embarrassing, really, but the boy knows his way around Edom after spending so long here.”

“Jonathan,” Jace whispers, hollowly.

The spark of hope ignites again because _Clary is alive,_ but the fact that she is with her psychopathic brother kind of puts the spark out. Still, Simon feels relieved because at least Clary got out of this place.

Jace on the other hand, looks nauseated.

“Unfortunately for you, I cannot let you go,” the man says with a horrible smirk, “you came here uninvited and that was horribly rude,” he continues and his eyes flash with gold.

Simon knows he should focus on the fact that he just threatened to keep them wherever they are for who knows how long, but he can only focus on his eyes because there is only one other person who he has seen to have similar eyes.

Jace is smarter though. “What do you want, Asmodeus? What do we have to pay to get our freedom?” He asks, without any trace of visible fear, and Simon can tell that using his name throws him off his game a little.

“Oh, bargaining. Interesting,” he says, looking as if he was deep in thought. “A truth. That’s what I require. It’s worth more than anything because it is rare and fragile and it has a whole different kind of power to wreck lives and cause destruction.”

It is not the worst thing he could have asked for, but it is still giving Simon serious flashbacks to the Seelie Court, and once again he feels as if their lives were just entertainment for the others.

“I will ask you a question and you will answer honestly,” he tells them as he walks up to them.

“Fine,” Jace tells him, and as soon as he says it, he places both of his hands on Jace’s head. Asmodeus closes his eyes and so does Jace, but Jace looks considerably more uncomfortable than he does, as if he was in pain. The grip on Simon’s shoulder tightens, and he places his own hand on his hand to offer at least some kind of comfort.

Suddenly, Asmodeus opens his golden eyes. “What is it that you fear the most, Jace?”

Jace has kept his eyes closed until now. He opens them slowly and stares him into his eyes. “That I end up being like Valentine,” he admits, but as soon as he says it, he looks to the ground.

It is a heartbreaking confession, really, and Simon would like to hold him and reassure him that he is nothing like Valentine nor ever will be, but it is not the right time or place, so he gives him a sympathetic glance and brushes his shoulder with his fingers.

“Interesting,” he says again, as if he was watching a freaking tennis match, “not having exactly the kind of effect I was hoping for, but at least you told the truth.”

He takes a few steps to right and he places his bony and slender fingers on his head. He presses them with a lot of force and Simon can feel someone poking around in his mind and it is one of the most uncomfortable experiences of his life and it does hurt.

He lets out a small groan when Asmodeus lets go off his head.

“What is it that you most desire, Simon?”

Simon opens his eyes and blinks a few times. He is taken aback by the simplicity of the question. There is an easy answer to that because there is only one thing that has caused him more suffering than he ever wanted to experience. It cost him his family, friends and any chance of normal life.

“Not to be a vampire,” he says, and he can feel the weight of Jace’s gaze on him.

“Fascinating,” he says, “that’s an odd desire, you have so much power but you’re willing to give it away, but once again, you were being truthful.”

Jace sighs, shifting Simon’s arm around his shoulder so that he has a better hold of him. “Are we free to leave?”

“Yes, I’ll send you back where you came from,” he informs and he seems ready to perform whatever spell he needs to do and Jace reaches to pick up his blade.

“I’ve one more thing,” Jace says abruptly, when he is already holding his blade.

“Yes?”

Simon is not sure if Asmodeus is asking because he genuinely wants to know or if he is just curious why they would ask anything from him when he is about to let them go.

“Would you consider giving Magnus his powers back--”, Jace starts, but Asmodeus cuts him off.

“That is a matter between me and my son, mortal,” he spits out, and he snaps his fingers and suddenly everything goes dark again.

 

 

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became longer than I first planned and it probably has some errors here and there, and they are all mine. Hopefully, I can post the next chapter in few weeks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so sorry for not updating in months, uni is really killing me at the moment, but at least I finally finished this, so I hope you enjoy!

When Jace sees a pavement full of cracks and grass that has slightly turned yellow, he feels more relieved than ever. There are shiny cars driving past him and he has to step aside because the pavement is so full of people walking to both directions and every one is  accidently pushing each other out of the way.

It does not take him long to realise they are at the edge of some park. A dozen pigeons fly above him and a dog barks somewhere in the distance. The wind is cold and he has never been more grateful for wind that is not scorchingly hot.

He looks around him, attempting to map the surroundings and figure out where they are, but he is so overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of the place that it takes him even a moment to realise that he cannot see Simon anywhere.

His heart skips a beat when he comes to that realisation and he can feel the panic settling into his stomach as he spins around to search his face in the crowd. 

He thinks his legs almost give out when he finally spots Simon’s very confused face behind a busload of tourists. 

Simon limps towards him and some of the tension returns to his body because his mind, unhelpfully, provides him with tens of things Simon might say to him and he is not sure if he wants to hear all of them. 

Simon collapses to the park bench next to him and massages his hurt ankle quickly before he looks up at him. 

“You okay?” Jace asks, just to be sure.

“Yeah,” he confirms with a decisive nod. “I just have one question,” he adds, holding his index finger up.

“Ask away,” he says, even though he is very reluctant towards the idea of answering anything he does not want. To distract himself, he fishes the stele out of his pocket and drawns an iratze on his left arm.

“Why are we in Paris?”

The absurdity of the question throws him off. It is the very least thing he expected him to ask. He is confused enough by the question that he looks around himself again. 

“We are not-,” he starts to argue, being almost sure Simon is kidding, but then he notices a small French flag next to the door of the cafe that is across the street. The woman who hurries past their bench speaks fluent French into her phone.

Simon chuckles. “No, I really think we are,” he insists, pointing at rooftops of the nearby buildings. Surely enough, Jace spots something that looks suspiciously lot like the top of the Eiffel tower between the roofs.

“You may have a point,” Jace admits, under his breath, as he sits down next to him. 

He feels more exhausted than before. Powerless, even. It is not the worst set back they have had, but he is getting tired of things going wrong. He is relieved that Clary is not in Edom any longer, but the idea of her being with Sebastian is almost worst. He is nauseated by the thought of it. 

“I’ve my moments,” Simon comments, laughing, before putting his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, I know Clary is still in danger and this whole Paris thing is a problem, but I cannot believe we got out of there.”

Jace looks at him. He is slightly shaking as he tries his best not to laugh. He tries to frown, but he is failing miserably. Jace almost wants to tell him that it is a normal reaction to a post-stressful situation, but he guesses he might know that. 

A couple of tourists give them weird looks as they walk by, and Jace cannot really blame them. Simon is laughing and he is wallowing in despair. Half of their clothes are stained in blood and covered by red sand. Even him can smell that they stink and he knows they are covered in bruises and cuts. They probably make an odd looking pair.

“Okay,” Simon says, eventually, sighing as he attempts to compose himself. “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t have one,” Jace tells him, immediately, and he does not even attempt to come up with some far-fetched plan. He does not have enough energy or faith for it.

“That’s fine, that’s totally okay. We’ll figure this out,” Simon reassures him quickly with a warm smile, and maybe everything does not feel that hopeless when he sees that smile. “Arriving to Paris was totally unexpected, I give you that, and it’s not like I have spent time thinking about this kind of scenario either, so it’s natural we don’t have a plan.”

Jace gives him a weak but sincere smile and keeps nodding in agreement.

“So, let’s forget about the plan. Do you wanna play a guessing game? First question, why are we here?” Simon continues his rapid rambling.

“Could be anything,” Jace says with a lazy shrug as he stares a group of tourists that are trying to cross the road. 

“I’ve got a couple of theories,” he announces and Jace knows he is at least partly doing this because he can sense his hopelessness and he wants to cheer him up. It is dumb but it is working as a distraction better than he likes to admit.

“First theory, that Asmodeus guy just didn’t like us,” Simon explains. “He came up with the Paris thing just ‘cause he knew it would be inconvenient.”

“He is literally ruler of a hell realm,” Jace states, now looking at a couple of pigeons who are fighting over a piece of bread. “He could cause a lot more inconvenience to us than sending us  a wrong continent.”

“Okay, okay, fair point. Let’s forget about that theory. Luckily, I’ve a second theory. He genuinely thought we were from Paris.”

He frowns as he shakes his head. “Why would he think that?”

Simon shrugs, but he is also watching the bird fight. “Maybe we give off that kind of vibe.”

“I seriously doubt that right now,” he points out as he looks at his own shoes that are covered in sand and dried spots of blood. One very confused looking tourist snaps a photo of them. 

“Yeah,” Simon admits, but he holds up three fingers. “Maybe he just doesn’t know any Earth geography. It could be a skill he is lacking and he was too embarrassed to ask what is the difference between Europe and North America.”

Jace knows Simon is joking for most part, but something about his rambling and attempted jokes sparks an idea in his mind. It is an absurd idea, truly, but the more he thinks about it the more it makes sense to him. 

“I’ve got a theory, too,” he announces, turning on his seat to face Simon. His face almost lights up. Jace does not know exactly why. Maybe he is just excited that he is playing along with the guessing game or maybe he is exactly as hopeless and devastated as he is and he needs to know he is not alone with the hope of succeeding.

“He did this on purpose,” he tells to Simon, who looks confused. 

“You’ve to elaborate on that,” he replies with a wave of a hand. Jace does not mind because he knows it is far fetched and he will be lucky if Simon believes him.

He takes a deep breath. “Asmodeus doesn’t like Lilith. He seemed pissed off that Lilith had been returned to her rightful realm,” he explains and Simon looks slightly uncomfortable, so he moves on. “He wasn’t pleased that Clary and Sebastian had gotten away.”

“That’s true,” Simon says with a nod, but he looks unsure how any of it connects to being in France.

“Logically speaking, he should have been furious and taken his anger out on us. We shouldn’t have gotten out of there so easily in any circumstances, especially after the previous prisoners escaped,” he continues, feeling a little more confident in his theory.

“I’m not complaining, but it’s a little surprising we’re alive, like I didn’t believe this would happen,” Simon says with a valid attempt of easy-going laughter.

“Exactly, but the thing is that Asmodeus is smart. He cannot rule an entire realm of hell without knowing what is doing and he played us. We’re just pawns in his little game, because you know what would hurt Lilith the most and probably destroy her enough to keep her away from interfering in Edom’s business?”

Jace looks at him expectantly, and the realisation dawns on him quickly. “Stopping Sebastian,” he nearly whispers.

Jace snaps his fingers. “Exactly. And what would we do,” he asks, quickly gesturing between them, “if we learnt that Sebastian has Clary?”

“Try to stop him,” Simon concludes, as he is finally following the trail of his thoughts. “He only let us go because he wanted us to do his dirty work with Sebastian,” he adds sounding defeated.

“Something like that,” he confirms, but he senses Simon has follow-up questions lined up.

“That makes sense, I’m not denying that, but how that explains why we are here?” He asks eagerly, looking right at him instead of the tourist group who is now arguing about the right directions or the bird fight that keeps escalating as more pigeons arrive.

“Valentine had safe houses all over Europe,” Jace replies. He has to swallow before he can continue speaking. “I probably don’t even know about all of them, but he had one in southern France. I don’t even know if it still exists or if the Clave has destroyed it.”

Simon is quiet for a moment. “You believe that Sebastian would be there with Clary?”

“Yeah,” he says with a decisive nod. “It’s a small place, more like a village. There’s very little shadowhunter activity so it would be a perfect place for a hide out,” Jace says, and he knows it is all speculative and he does not have that much evidence for his case.

“So that’s settled then, we are going to Southern France,” he replies with a quick grin.

“So you believe my theory?” Jace blurts out, but what he is asking more is that is he believing  _ him. _ He is a little taken aback how easily he accepted his theory. Usually, it takes more persuading to get people believe in his plans and theories, but then again Simon is not just any person.

“Yeah,” he replies quickly. “It’s believable and it makes sense. It’s not as far fetched as you think. Stranger things have happened.”

Jace merely huffs.

“Besides, this is what you’re good at,” he says, pointing at him. “There is a reason why I wanted you to come with me and it isn’t your pretty face,” his smile softens a little. “You might actually have something in there,” he says, poking his forehead and his smile is already a smirk by now.

“Ha, very funny, Si,” Jace tries to say as sarcastically as he can, but his brain is in shambles and he might be actually flustrated because of his comments, and he had every intention to call him Lewis, but the nickname just slips out.

Simon, the kind soul that he is, chooses to say nothing, but his smile gives it away that he noticed it.

“So what are we going to do? We don’t have anyone to portal us around and we have a very limited amount of money and I think that any sensible form of public transport will kick us out while we look like this,” Simon tells him matter-of-factly.

“We’ll call Magnus,” Jace says, because it feels like a logical thing to do. “He probably knows someone who can help us out and while he figures that out, we can do something important like sleep and eat.”

Simon nods, but his face breaks into a smile. “I knew you had a plan after all,” he says as he pumps his fist into his shoulder.

It is a lie. He did not have a plan. He knows that both of them know it, but pretending otherwise makes him feel a little better.

“Doesn’t that look like a hotel that you have always wanted to stay in?” Simon asks abruptly, pointing at a narrow and grey building near the park. The wall has small cracks and the edges of the balconies are painted in pink. The huge window at the street level is not clean and the neon light sign that is supposed to say hotel only says hte because of some of the lights have gone out. 

“Definitely,” Jace agrees with a forced smile, just for the sake of it.

“Knew it,” Simon replies, returning the same forced smile to him. He stands up little wobbly but gathers his balance before Jace has a chance to help him. “I’m gonna go and give my high school extracurricular French a try. You call Magnus.”

“Sure,” Jace replies, looking after Simon who limps into the midst of tourists. He waits a few moments before picking up his phone. The screen has a few cracks but he manages to select his number.

His thumb hoovers over the call button. He is not sure why he is reluctant to call him. Maybe he does not want to know how Alec is doing, especially if he has gotten worse. Maybe he does not want to hear how exhausted Magnus sounds. Yet, he knows he needs to give them a call and tell them that they are okay. Or at least that Simon is okay. They probably would like to know it.

He takes a deep breath before selecting the call. The phone rings a couple of times, a lot longer than he would expect, but then he remembers the time difference.

“ _ Jace _ .”

He immediately recognises Alec’s voice and he had no idea just his name could have so many meanings and imply so many different things.

The guilt takes a death grip of his gut and his breath hitches slightly. The nausea returns, but yet he manages to breath out his name as a response.

“Are you okay?” Alec asks immediately afterwards.

“Yeah,” he says, as he looks down to his bloody leg. “Simon hurt his ankle.”

Alec apparently sighs out of relief. “We were kind of giving up on hope already--it’s been five days.”

“Oh.”

It definitely did not feel that long.

“Did you find Clary?” Alec asks next, sounding genuinely worried about her, too. 

“No,” he replies, feeling the disappointment as he admits it. “Sebastian has her.”

The line is quiet, but Jace can imagine his mind how Alec is frowning and rubbing his forehead out of frustration.

“At least she’s not in Edom anymore,” Alec says, sounding tired, but apparently determined on focusing on the positive sides. 

“Yeah, it’s a terrible place.”

“How did you even manage to get out of there?” His voice is full of genuine puzzlement and curiosity. Maybe a little doubt, too. 

“A long story, but it had very little do with us and more to do with the vendetta of your in-law,” Jace tells him with a huff, “we can send Asmodeus a fruit basket or something later, but we actually have a lead on Clary.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Southern France.”

Alec does not question how he knows it or how he acquired the information. “Where are you now?”

“Somewhere in Paris, not really sure,” he tells him, with a shrug, even though he cannot see it. “That’s partly why I called. We need a portal to get there.”

“Magnus probably knows someone,” Alec offers, but his voice softens considerably as he mentions his name. “He’s sleeping, but I can always ask,” he continues, but he sounds very reluctant at the idea of waking him up.

“How is he?” Jace forces himself to ask but squeezes his eyes shut as he does it.

“He’s okay,” Alec states slightly unsurely. “He’s exhausted and frustrated. He keeps forgetting he doesn’t have his magic anymore. He is trying his best, though.”

Jace lets his shoulders relax. It is not as bad as he thought, but still the guilt keeps wallowing in his chest. He is unsure of what to say. “And you?”

“I’ll live,” he chuckles. “Left an ugly scar, but I’m okay. Izzy is enjoying a little too much being in charge.”

Jace does not miss the way Alec does not specify what or who left the scar. Also, he does not mention why he is not back being the head of the Institute. He does not want to ask.

“Yeah,” he replies, attempting to laugh, but it is a sad attempt. “Ask Magnus to let us know if he can get someone to help us,” he adds. It is good to hear Alec’s voice, but all he wants is the phone call to be over.

“Sure, good luck with--everything,” Alec wishes a little lamely, but his worry shines through his voice. “Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” he agrees before hanging up. He sits there, for a moment, without doing anything as the numbness replaces the guilt.

***

“I’m pretty sure I asked for two beds,” Simon tells him after he opened the door of their hotel room. 

The room is ugly and it definitely has only one bed. The whole carpet is dark green and it has weird stains on it. The walls are grey and one of the lamps is broken. The smell that greets them is a little stuffy, but Jace is too exhausted to care. 

“I can sleep on the armchair,” he offers as he walks past Simon into the room. 

Simon glares at him.

“You’re in worse shape than I am, so it makes sense that you’ll get the bed,” Jace argues. 

He glances at the chair. It looks soft but uncomfortable because it is so cramped but he is so exhausted, he knows he will fall asleep on it.

“Or we can both sleep on the like reasonable adults. It’s a big bed,” he points out as he closes the door of the small room and throws one of the two plastic bags he is carrying to the bed. He hands the other one to him. “We can make a wall out of pillows, if it helps.”

Jace decides to ignore his comment for now and he sits down at the brown armchair that looks like it could collapse at any moment. The plastic bag reveals the saddest dinner he has ever seen. There are a couple of water bottles, a banana that has seen better days and tupperware dish filled with something that looks like porridge.

He holds the dish higher and tries to determine whether it is actually porridge or something else greyish and mushy substance. 

“That’s porridge from the breakfast buffet. The reception lady gave it us for free, which is nice because I’m pretty sure I payed like twice the normal price of this,” Simon explains and he gestures the room around them, “only because I didn’t have any euros, just dollars.”

He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls a bottle of blood out of the other plastic bag. He managed to buy it from nearby butcher’s store under the disguise of pretending to cook some sort of Scandinavian delicacy. Simon swore to him it is a real thing, but Jace has his doubts.

“Did she specify if it was from today’s breakfast?” Jace asks, with some sort of concern, as he opens the lid of the dish. Surprisingly enough, the smell is not bad. Actually, it does not smell like anything. 

“She didn’t say and I didn’t ask,” he says with a shrug as he sips his drink. “I thought it was better not to dwell on thought of ‘we look so miserable that she thought we needed that for free and she was right’ too long.”

“That’s just sad,” he chuckles, but he feels a lot more sombre when he finds the plastic spoon he is supposed to eat the porridge with. It does not take him long to realise that the hotel room is not equipped with a microwave and he has to eat cold porridge.

“This isn’t what I imagined eating when visiting Paris,” Simon tells as he waves the bottle, apparently trying to mix remaining blood.

“Tell me about it,” he mutters as the plastic spoon almost snaps in half as he tries to scoop some of the porridge on it.

A silence falls between them as they attempt to eat, but it does not last long because Simon breaks it.

“Does it feel different now that you know which memory is missing?” It sounds as if he was just blurting it out, but Jace knows him, and he knows he has wanted to ask it ever since they realised what memory it was, but he has been waiting for the right moment.

His first instinct is to avoid answering, but it is a terrible idea. He does not want to talk about it, but he knows he will eventually have to talk about it. Also, avoiding his questions while having to spend hours in the same hotel room is a disaster waiting to happen. Besides, he deserves his honesty.

“It’s odd,” he tells truthfully as he attempts to mix the porridge with the spoon, but nothing happens because it is like plaster. “I can vaguely remember something, but as soon as I try, the thought slips from my mind like a piece of soap, and I forget what I was thinking about.”

“That sounds--frustrating,” he comments, sounding a little unsure. There might be something else he wants to say but he seems to lack the proper words or courage. Jace cannot blame him. He will eventually ask the question or say what he has to say out of the blue once he figures it out.

It happens sooner than later. “Why--why do you think it was that memory?”

Jace groans a little too dramatically, making Simon chuckle. “I don’t know,” he tries to say as convincingly as he can. This is the last thing he wants to talk about.

“You could just admit you like me,” Simon jokes with a surprisingly soft voice, “it’s not a weakness, you know, to like people.”

Jace huffs. “Yeah, I like you.” It is a simple thing to say, really, but still it feels like his heart is beating a little faster. It feels good to say it out loud. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very,” Simon confirms with a beatific grin.

“Have you discovered what’s your missing one?” Jace asks, his mouth filled with porridge.

He shakes his head a little sadly. “No. I cannot come up with anything that would make me feel that way.”

“Maybe you figure it out.”

“Maybe,” he repeats, “but also maybe I’m better off without knowing it.”

Jace does not know what he is trying to imply with that, but he has no idea how to ask about it either.

Simon throws the bottle to the nearby bin. “I’m gonna go shower,” he explains before disappearing into the bathroom.

Jace looks out of the window as he slowly finishes eating. He feels better after eating and the constant quiet sound of the shower running helps him think. 

He is not a big fan of talking and sharing when it comes to emotions. He tends to bottle up instead of sharing. It is not healthy, he knows it, but it feels easier than opening up and being vulnerable. Simon is almost the opposite of him, although he bottles up certain things.

Yet, he knows they need to talk about everything that went down in Edom. If they do not, he feels as if either one of them might have some sort of meltdown. He trusts Simon with his life and he knows he trusts him, but they cannot have anything gnawing at between them if they have to go against Sebastian again.

He hears the bathroom open, but his phone beeps at the same time with the notification of Magnus’ message. 

“Is it Magnus?” Simon asks as he walks around the room.

“Yeah. Apparently he knows one woman who agreed to help us. We need to meet her at some alley tomorrow in the morning,” Jace says, little distraughtly, as he tries to summarize the message.

“Sounds a little sketchy,” Simon comments with abrupt laughter that sounds a little mumbled because he is apparently drying his hair with a huge towel. “If the meeting was at night, it would basically be a start of a horror movie.”

“This horror movie is happening in French,” Jace mutters as he reads the last part that warns them that her English is not the best.

“Fun, we’re gonna end up in Siberia with our luck,” Simon says in a long-suffering voice. 

Jace is about to argue that his French skills are perfectly fine, thank you very much, but he is not prepared for the sight of shirtless Simon, whose hair is worse than a bird nest, staring at him with an amused expression.

He is not certain what catches him so off guard. Obviously, his bare chest is distracting, but Jace is more focused on the way he looks at him. There is something so soft about it that it makes his heart melt. 

His brain might short circuit a little and after he realises that he is staring at him, his brain shuts down completely and does not provide anything that would be useful to make the situation any less awkward.

His first instinct is to escape so he stands up so fast he sees little black dots and walks towards the bathroom. “Why Siberia?” He mutters as he walks past him.

“It’s still better than Edom,” Simon points out after he has already closed the door.

***

 

“You’re staring at me,” Simon accuses him when they are finally both lying on the bed. 

Simon has wrapped himself tightly into a duvet, looking like a burrito. Jace’s duvet is somewhere over his legs, but he has rising suspicions that Simon has already stole it, so it is more on his side. Simon was right, though. The bed is soft and comfortable and definitely big enough for both of them. They are close, but not touching, and there is no pillow wall.    


“I’m not,” Jace argues, but exhaustion is slurring his voice. 

It took more convincing from Simon’s side to get Jace finally share the bed. Simon’s top arguments included agonizing back pain and endless  _ I told you so _ s. Jace is not even sure why he eventually caved in. His argumentation was not that great.

Instead, he is fully aware why he did not want to share the bed with him. It feels too intimate. He has slept next to Simon and in close proximity but their camping area in Edom and back of a van are totally different from a bed.

The other situations were caused by the circumstances. He did not have any other choice. Now, he has a choice. He could have very well slept on the chair. It is nearly not the worst place he has slept in. Yet, he chose this. He chose Simon. 

He kind of hates himself for it. He hates the whole situation because it reminds him of his feelings, things he cannot have and things that are impossible. He feels like he is violating his trust. He knows how much Simon hates being lied to, and it disgusts him that he is sort of doing it to him.

The proximity also creates false sense of intimacy. It is false because it makes him feel as if they are the only people in the world and everything is fine. It is a dangerous thought. He can feel himself slipping and spiraling into imagining, dreaming and wanting.

Yet, the false sense of intimacy can help them to have the conversation they need to have before tomorrow. Jace uses it as a justification for everything he is doing. He is only doing to keep them safe. Him. And Clary. 

“You’re,” Simon insists, but a small smile is forming on his lips.

“Fine, okay, would you prefer if I did this instead?” Jace asks, deadpan, and turns his head dramatically so that he is looking at the edge of the ceiling in an unnatural position. He can already feel a knot forming in his neck.

Simon lets out a small laugh. “No.”

Jace turns his head back. “Exactly.”

“You can keep staring at me,” he tells him, softly.

Jace rolls his eyes because he does not have enough energy to continue bickering.

“I’ve something I want to say to you,” he says, suddenly, out of the nowhere.

Jace nods, not quite knowing what to expect. With Simon, it could be anything from ‘you have porridge on your chin’ to something deep and profound that will just worsen Jace’s emotional turmoil.

“You’re nothing like Valentine,” his voice is quiet, but still full of finality and absolute sureness. “And you don’t have to worry about becoming like him, ‘cause that’s not possible. You’re not him.”

He does not know what to say. It definitely stirs up the turmoil. The way he looks at him does not help either. He looks right at him, and it feels as if his gaze could see right through all of the walls he has built. It is a little unnerving, but at the same time, there is certain softness and warmth in his eyes. It makes him feel accepted.

He could just thank him and pretend to fall asleep. The conversation would die and fade away and it certainly is a tempting option, yet, that is not what he truly wants. There is something about Simon that makes him want to tell him how he feels because the more time they spend together, the more he trusts him.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of it,” Jace whispers back with a short and sharp laugh. He has killed a lot of demons. He does not feel guilty of his demon kill count, but he has started to vaguely remember what he did as the Owl and the thought of all of that violence makes him shudder. He still sees nightmares of the soul sword.

He half expects Simon to scoff or roll his eyes, but he does nothing like that. “You know, the fact that you feel guilty makes you different already,” he points out.

Jace opens his mouth, but no words come out. He has not really thought of it like that. He closes his mouth and frowns instead.

“Even when you cannot be blamed actually for any of it. There’s a good reason why possession is called a possession,” he continues, slowly. “We all make stupid decisions and mistakes. It’s what we do, but we shouldn’t be defined them. It’s what we do after the bad stuff that counts. Fixing it and trying to be better. That’s what should define you.”

“That’s actually pretty smart,” Jace comments, distraughtly, because once again, he does not know what else to say.

“I know,” he tells him smugly and grins at him. “In all seriousness though, you aren’t a monster and I’m not saying you should be completely fine suddenly, all you have been through can seriously mess with your head, but you aren’t alone or bad person because of it.”

Jace feels his throat closing up just from all the emotions he is trying to keep inside. He takes a deep breath, and another. He keeps doing it, and Simon says nothing. He lets him do whatever he has to. He just keeps staring at him gently.

“Thank you,” he eventually chokes out. He has no clue what he is supposed to say. The guilt has not disappeared anywhere, but maybe he feels a little better, more hopeful. It is like a first small step towards healing. 

They are quiet for a moment, but neither of them closes their eyes or even attempts to sleep. There is certain tension in the air, and Jace knows he should say maybe something more, elaborate or something, but he does not find the words, even though he thinks Simon is expecting something more.

“Do you, uh, want to--” he attempts to say.

“Talk about my worst fears and deepest wishes? Why not,” he says sarcastically and with a pretended smile, but still seems not to feel uncomfortable in any way. 

Jace was actually surprised by Simon’s answer back in Edom. Sure, he knows that a lot of crappy things have happened to Simon after becoming a vampire, but he did not expect it to be the thing he wanted the most to change. He is not sure what he expected, though.

“There are very valid reasons,” Simon starts, sounding calm. “First of all, being a vampire cost me my family,” his voice quivers a little at the mention of them, “and every chance of normal life. Drinking blood is disgusting and it is lonely.”

“That’s--understandable,” he says, immediately regretting it because it sounds so inadequate and dumb. 

Simon merely hums as a response. He is probably not looking for validation for his feelings, but there might be something else he wants to say.

“Lonely?”

Simon bites the inside of his cheek and looks uncomfortable for a moment, before he sets at frowning. “Yeah, I love you all of you guys and I appreciate everything you and others are doing for me, but no one really gets what it feels like to be a vampire. I don’t know any vampires that well because most of them dislike me for a various of reasons.”

“And I know that any of you don’t dislike me, but I also feel like none of you are actually thrilled about me being a vampire,” Simon adds, slightly unsurely and the pace of his speech is getting faster. “You like me for me, but you only tolerate the vampire thing and it’s kind of okay, but it’s not okay at the times.”

He sounds sad, but he flashes a smile at him, nevertheless. He is probably just putting on a brave face, and Jace hates that he feels that it is necessary. 

“Oh,” Jace says, involuntarily, as he takes a deep breath. He had not thought about it at all, which makes him feel awful, but it does not help him at all, when he realises that he never even realised that Simon was feeling that way. He is almost disgusted at himself for not noticing something that big.

He can also recognise himself from that description. He likes Simon, more than likes, hell, he practically adores him, but he knows he treats Simon’s blood drinking as a necessary evil that has to be done and he is the only vampire he likes.

“That wasn’t supposed to be any sort of guilt tripping,” Simon points out way too softly than he deserves.

“Yeah I get that,” he tells him quickly. “It’s just--I have never thought about it and I’m sorry,” he tries to say as sincerely as he possibly can. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures him quickly. Maybe slightly too quickly it to be sincere.

“I’ll try to do better,” he promises quietly, because he knows the apology is for nothing if he still continues to do it. 

“You’re not even the worst one,” Simon tells him, and lets out a laugh.

He is almost tempted to ask who is the worst, but he does not.

“Are we okay?”

“Definitely.”

***

 

“I really hope this is the correct small French village, because I think I might cry if it isn’t,” Simon announces as soon as they step out of the portal.

“Looks about right,” Jace confirms, shoving a piece of paper to the pocket of his jacket. 

The portal opened up in a narrow alley, but as soon as they step onto the street, Jace knows they are in the right place. The buildings are not high, but they are painted with bright colours. There are small shops here and there, but the streets are surprisingly crowded. The place seems small, peaceful and normal. Too peaceful and normal. 

“So what kind of place we are looking?” Simon asks as he turns around and starts walking backwards. He almost walks into an advertisement stand of a cheese shop. “The kind of place that screams an evil lair or the place that gives vibes that it’s definitely nothing evil?”

“Something that doesn’t draw a lot of attention,” Jace tells him. “Probably not right in centre, but not completely in isolation, either. Something that doesn’t arouse any questions.”

He hates that it is so easy for him to put himself in his shoes and imagine how he would have thought. It is almost too easy. 

“Sounds easy to find,” he remarks, mostly sarcastically. 

Turns out, Valentine’s hideout is difficult to find. Jace wants to blame the layout of the centre village. It is a like maze with its curving streets and small alleys. They go around it in circles at least twice before they find the way out.

The houses look similar and all of them seem very unsuspicious, which makes them more suspicious than not, but nothing gives him the feeling that Valentine would have thought them to be suitable.

Simon keeps pointing out places a lot.

“What about that?” Simon asks, possibly for tenth time, as he points to a beige two story house that has a small balcony and weird bars on the windows of the cellar. It has flower pots on the windowsill.

It definitely is unnoticeable and normal-looking. Nobody would look at it twice unless they were really interested in colour of beige. It is not right at the centre, but the surrounding buildings are still too close. 

“I don’t--,” Jace starts, but he abruptly stops because he feels his presence before he even seems him. His eyes dart around the wide street and the small market place, before he spots Sebastian walking quickly and determinedly to their general direction. 

He does not know he has spot them or not, but he has no time to dwell on that. He just acts. He janks Simon to another small alley by grabbing him by his jacket. He yelps out of surprise, but quickly follows him.

“What’s happening?”

“Sebastian,” Jace answers shortly, examining the alley. It is short and narrow, and a complete deadend. There is only one abandoned bike and one trash can. Not exactly the ideal place to hide or run.

Jace paces along the alley. He does not know what to do. He does not want to take on him on a public place where innocent people might get hurt. They are so close to finding Clary and if he learns they are onto him, they lose the chance of finding her. The element of surprise is the best weapon they have and Jace does not want to lose the upper hand. There is no way he does not notice them if they just stand there.

“Which one?” Simon asks, as he is peering around the corner. 

Jace hastily pulls him back. “The red head .Almost kinda brownish hair, weird eyebrows” he explains as he rubs his neck and tries to  _ think. _

“He looks nothing like him.”

“The body he used earlier wasn’t his. It was the real Sebastian. When he died and went to Edom, the illusion of Sebastian’s body probably disappeared. That might be another innocent person’s face or what he might have looked like if he grew up like a normal person, I don’t know.”

Simon sighs. “Why this has to be so confusing? Should I call him Sebastian or Jonathan?”

“Whatever you want,” Jace replies because it is not the best time to start think about the philosophy of it.

“How do you even know it’s him?” He is looking at him now, sounding curious, but not accusing.

“Gut feeling,” Jace offers lamely. He does not know how to explain it otherwise.

Simon does not argue, he merely nods, apparently accepting it as a valid reason. “Any plan how to prevent him from seeing us because I--”

The idea appears out of the blue. It is a stupid plan. A bad plan, really, but he knows there is a very good chance it might work. Even if it means that he has to deal with bunch of unpleasant stuff later and quite frankly it is the only plan he has.

He takes one step closer to Simon, even though the width of the alley has already forced them to stand close to each other.  He hates his life, sometimes. “Kiss me.”

His heart is beating like a drum when he says it and his ears might be ringing a little, but he knows it will work.

“What?” Simon asks, sounding dumbfounded, which is understandable, but there is no time for it.

Jace gestures urgently towards the street. “Just do it?”

“Fine, but this was your idea,” Simon mutters, and he is not sure why it needs to be specified, but he does not think about it too long because Simon is already pushing him against the beige wall and kissing him.

Jace is not sure what he should focus on. Making sure that Sebastian walks past them? Trying to estimate how long it will take that they are in the clear? The fact that Simon is damn good at kissing?

There is some logical part of his brain that keeps telling him to focus more on his surroundings, but it is  _ hard.  _ Simon’s mouth is distracting, and his lips are surprisingly warm and soft against his. 

He has thought about this before, he would be lying if he said otherwise, maybe even more than he even likes to admit to himself, but it is nothing like expected. First of all, it is all pretending and not real, but it is still a lot gentler and slower than he expected.

Simon’s hands were originally against the wall, but somehow they have found their way on his face. The skin of his fingers feels almost rough against his cheek he is cupping. He keeps his own hands away from Simon. It would feel natural to put them somewhere, but he does not want to take advantage of him, not any more than he already is.

His whole body tingling and his way too fast heartbeat  is already hurting his ribcage when he pulls slightly away. He feels as if he might suffocate if he does not. It is enough to make Simon pull away too, but he does not move further away.

He has a strange look in his eyes when he looks at him. “Do you think he is gone?” He whispers.

Jace counts to ten as he tries to catch his breath, before he takes a quick glimpse at the street. “Yeah, he’s gone.”

Simon takes a few steps back and laughs. “How did you knew that would work?”

Jace tries to bury the want of kissing him again somewhere deep. “Anyone who was raised by Valentine would--dislike--affection and not stand public displays of it,” he explains his logic to him.

“Oh, okay, yeah, makes sense.” The joy disappears from his face as he nods. He looks almost sombre and Jace looks away because he cannot stand any form of pity, especially from him right now. Besides, the description fits Sebastian better than him.

***

 

After the kiss, everything becomes awkward. They now have rough direction where the hideout might be, but it is still like taking a shot in the dark. They search multiple streets and alleys, but find nothing.

Jace is suddenly hyper aware about his body and the proximity to Simon. They keep bumping into each other as they try to avoid getting hit by cyclists and more advertisement stands. He feels the urge to apologize everytime it happens and most of the time he does so.

Simon keeps rambling more than usually around him. It is not even the good kind of rambling. It is the nervous sort and the nervousness is contagious. Jace hates that they are suddenly so out of sync and uncomfortable but he does not know how to make it better.

He tries to focus only on finding Clary, and soon enough, he spots a road that leads to small forest. He guesses there might be some kind of residency because the road looks taken care of and it leads right into the forest.

“That looks promising,” he says, pointing at the direction of it.

Unexpectedly, Simon groans. “Why it always has to be cabins in the forests? Why everything has to be like a beginning of a horror movie? If you get more poison darts on your leg, you’re on your own.”

“Thanks,” Jace deadpans. He knows Simon is joking to relieve the tension and it is kind of working, and he is grateful about it.

“Well, I wouldn’t ditch you there,” Simon specifies,” but we’d be doomed any way because I’m not sure how many magically binding promises I can make and the only weapon I have is this,” he says and pulls a knife out of his pocket.

It is not a dagger. It really is a knife that is maybe slightly sharper than a butter knife. Most likely very useless in a real fight.

“Did you steal that from the breakfast buffet?”

“I did,” Simon confirms and keeps poking air with it.

“Do you know how to throw it?” He asks almost conversationally because talking is helping his nerves and anxiety as they keep walking closer to the forest. Talking about anything else than the kiss is also a great idea.

Simon imitates a very odd looking attempt of throwing the knife without letting it go and completes with whoosh sounds. 

Jace cannot help but smile at him. “Keep your wrist relaxed,” he advices and waves his own wrist. 

“Okay,” he accepts, “but I’ll keep the sound effects.”

“Sure, I never said anything about them.”

“But you were thinking about them,” Simon accuses.

“I’ll admit nothing.”

They arrive at the edge of the forest. Jace pulls the seraph blade out of Simon’s backpack, even though it only was there half way. He fishes the stele out of his jacket and he redraws a few of his runes. 

They walk slowly, probably with more caution that is necessary. The forest is actually peaceful and not at all threatening. The road is clear and they seem to be the only people within miles. The forest is actually beautiful and the sun is shining in between the trees. Instinctively, Jace ends up walking a few steps ahead of him, but he falls back next to him, when he mutters something that sounds suspiciously lot like poisoned darts and an idiot.

It feels as if they walk for hours, but then he finally spots a small wooden cabin between the trees. He does not know why he instantly recognises it as the one. He nods towards it. Simon does not reply but he grabs his butter knife a little tighter.

They walk closer and the yard is eerily quiet. There are few berry bushes and the leaves are rustling in the wind. He cannot spot any traps or magical barriers, which makes him more anxious than relieved.

They finally reach the door and everything is so quiet. There are stains on the window and the curtains are closed, so they do not have a real view to inside. Jace rests his palm against the door knob. He looks at Simon again, for reasons unknown to him. Reassurance or agreement might be the closest thing. He is anxious. With Alec, they never really have to plan these things. A bunch of confusing hand signals and knowing what the other will do is enough. Jace is pretty sure they do not even have a plan, but yet he when Simon nods, he opens the door and they charge in.

Jace immediately freezes in the doorway out of confusion. Sebastian sits on the floor and he is tied against a robust leg of a table with thick rope. His mouth is covered by a garnish scarf. His eyes are like a furious storm and he really looks like he could kill someone.

Clary is squatting next to him, but when she sees them, she stands up. There are holes in her jeans and the sleeve of her shirt is half ripped off. Her clothes are covered by the stains of Edom’s sand. Her hair is tied back, but it is still messy and she has cuts all over her face, but her grin is brilliant. “You took your time.”

Simon drops his knife and it takes less than a second for him to cross the room to hug her. She staggers a few steps back but she chuckles nevertheless. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

***

 

It does not take them long to get back to New York. Clary creates a portal to Idris to surrender Sebastian to the Clave. She says she wants to do it by herself, and she has every right to do that, so they wait her at the cabin.

“I cannot believe we did it,” Simon says with disbelief, probably to fill the slightly awkward silence that falls between them as soon as Clary leaves.

“More like she did it,” Jace mutters, with a flash of a grin, but he keeps his gaze at the floor. He does not want to look around the cabin and see anything that would remind him of him and looking at Simon after the kiss feels to awkward, too.

“We helped, like at least partly,” Simon deadpans. He seems to be unaware of the awkwardness or he is really good at pretending that it does not exist.

“True.”

Clary returns and just like that she creates another portal. They are back in New York within a few seconds. It feels almost dumb that after everything they been through that arriving back home is that easy. He feels so relieved, he fears his leg might give out.

The portal opens at one of the long corridors of the Institute. Izzy is already hurrying towards them and hugs Clary so fiercely, Jace kind of worries she might suffocate her. Izzy quickly hugs both of them too and starts her rapid fire of questions. Simon starts to answer her questions as well as he can, and when all the attention is on him, Jace quietly leaves the corridor and flees because everything feels too much, suddenly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, all of the mistakes are mine and there probably are some. I hope you liked this one and there is only one chapter and epilogue left!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time because for some reason I kept rewriting this a lot and finally I'm somewhat happy with it. I hope you like it and thank you to everyone who has left kudos and incredibly kind comments on previous chapters, they mean the world to me!

”Hello, stranger,” Simon greets him as he slides into the booth opposite side of him. Somehow, he is not surprised to find him in the Hunter’s Moon.

Jace has the audacity to look startled to see him. He also looks kind of terrible, to be honest. Exhausted, at least. The circles under his eyes are darker than the last time he saw him. He smiles down at his drink, but the smile lasts only for a moment. “Hi.”

Simon almost wants to scoff and ask if that is the best he has to offer, but he bites his tongue, because he did not come here to make things worse. Hell, he has been so worried about him that he almost wants to hug him out of pure relief. He almost does.

“I-,” Jace starts unsurely and he still does not look at him.

“-‘ve been avoiding me,” Simon finishes for him, trying to get straight to the point.

He opens his mouth, but abruptly closes it again. He lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” he answers immediately. It sounds almost harsh, even though he did not intend it that way. “You know, I’ve been looking for you for two weeks now. You didn’t answer my texts or calls, so obviously I had to ask someone and unfortunately for you, none of them told me your excuses.”

Jace smiles sheepishly and runs his finger against the edge of his glass. “What did they tell you?”

“That you’re going through some stuff and that you’re moping alone,” he tells him honestly. “Except for Max who told me that you were sharpening arrow heads.”

Jace snorts softly. “How did you find me?”

“By asking people and kind of tracking you down,” he answers, but Jace raises his eyebrow at him. “Your heartbeat, it sounds different than others,” he blurts out and rubs his neck out of some kind of embarrassment.

Now, he looks just plain confused. Simon waves his hand dismissively. “I just recognise it, don’t worry, I cannot do any sort of daredevil stuff with it.”

Jace bites down a smile. “No idea what that means.”

Simon rolls his eyes and taps his palms against the wooden table. “If you wanted me to leave you alone, you could have just texted me,” he tells with a sigh.

It had been two weeks since they arrived back to New York with Clary and when Simon realised that Jace had disappeared without saying a word, he was not surprised. He knew he needed his space, but the days turned into weeks and into a bunch of ignored calls and texts. It was hard to tell if he was avoiding him because of something he did or not.

Jace looks visibly uncomfortable when he finally looks up to him. His eyes are shining with emotions, but it is hard to name any of them. “It wasn’t like that,” he says quietly.

“Then what is it?”

Simon cannot blame Jace for coping badly after their impromptu road trip to hell realm, because he has not been coping well, either. He feels numb and tired because he cannot sleep because nightmares of Edom return every night and sometimes, he lies awake thinking if they ever even got out of there.

He knows he should talk about it someone, but most of the people do not understand. There are two people who could understand, but Clary shuts him down every time he tries to speak about it and the other, he is seeing for the first time in weeks.

On top of all of that, he has been worried about Jace. He was already worse off when they were on their rescue mission and he guessed that he was at least as miserable as he was on his worst nights. Not hearing from him only maximised his worry exponentially and if he is being completely honest, he felt kind of abandoned and disappointed.

“I—I thought that you wouldn’t want to see me,” Jace eventually offers as an explanation. It is a terrible excuse as far as excuses go, but he seems genuinely sincere when he says it.

Simon resists the urge to roll his eyes, when he pulls out his phone out of his jacket’s pocket. He checks it quickly. “Yes, obviously that was the message I was trying to convey with 21 unanswered texts and five missed calls.”

Jace grimaces as he sips his drink.

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything,” Simon says and he shoots him a doubtful look. “I’m not. I swear. I just want to know you’re okay and tell me how to fix this,” he continues and gestures with his hand the space between them.

Another truth is that he has missed Jace. A lot. If the nightmares and horrible thoughts about Edom have interrupted his smooth return to his almost normal life, so has Jace. Worrying about him and his wellbeing has occupied him for hours, but also, just generally, he cannot get him out of his mind.

He knew even before the road trip that they were friends and the whole ordeal just confirmed it to him, but being away from him for weeks, confirmed to him that his heart wants to be more than friends.

It was a terrible realisation. Mostly because he knows that he very likely does not have a chance of turning his feelings into anything else except unrequited. He is already way too familiar with those. Frustratingly so.

The realisation also triggered his brain to constantly play the kiss in his mind. If it is not Edom or the nightmare versions of what happened in Edom that are on his mind, it is the kiss. It is a one kind of hell, too, he supposes.

It was not the best kiss of his life. It was a complete surprise and forced by the circumstances. He was definitely into it, which in retrospect, probably should have been his first sign that his feelings ran deeper than friendship. The only problem is that he could tell that Jace was not into it. He just stood there, being kissed by him. It was a necessary evil for him.

Jace just stares at him. Either he is loss at words or he is trying to figure out a way to say his explanation.

“Was it something I did?” Simon asks, mostly to break the silence and partly because he has had a lot of time to think about it.

Jace shakes his head immediately. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Hearing it, kind of eases his mind, but then again it does not, because it means that all of his worry about him was necessary and justified. He kind of wishes that he would have been just angry with him instead of having his own issues.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Simon asks, softly. He hopes to get an explanation, but still, he does not want to pressure him into talking, but he still wants to help. In any way he can.

Jace drinks rest of his drink and puts the glass on the table. “Can we get out of here?”

Simon is surprised, but he nods. Hunter’s Moon is not full, which is understandable because it is a Monday afternoon. Yet, it is not the most private place to have discussions about things that people are not supposed to know.

Jace stands up and heads towards the door. Simon follows right behind him into the street. He walks quickly and determinedly, but he does not say anything. Simon guesses he has a certain place he wants to go to.

The streets are full of people, which makes following him a little difficult, but he manages to keep up with him for the short walk, even if he almost crashes into a woman pushing a baby carriage.

Jace sits down at a bench in the edge of a small park. It is not a special looking park, but it gives an illusion of serenity in the middle of the city. He sits next to him and he cannot help but get a Deja vu back to Paris and their desperate attempts to come up with a plan.

He stays quiet as he watches a group of people to jog by them. Jace is twitching his hands in a nervous manner and focuses completely on that.

“I—I have started to remember the things I did,” he says slowly and rubs his own palm with his thumb. “And it’s messing me up.”

Simon nods sympathetically, because he is not sure what to say.

“I mean I pushed Clary off the roof,” he adds sombrely and presses the thumb into his palm with such force that his skin around it is turning into a pale shade of white.

“I know,” he says, “she called me and I found her.” He gently nudges his hand that is pressing the other.

. He lets it go and drop to the bench inbetween them. “But that’s when we were certain that you weren’t you.”

Jace looks nauseated.

“Look, I’m not trying to belittle anything you’re feeling, but none of us blame you for any of that,” Simon says. He knows he is repeating himself, but he needs him to know and believe it. If he it requires repeating it a hundred times, he does not mind.

He flashes him a grateful smile, but Simon knows he does not still believe it. Or at least he still blames himself.

“Edom also messed me up,” he confesses, and Simon’s stomach drops unpleasantly. “I’m having nightmares.”

“Me too,” he tells quickly.

Jace’s head jerks up and he looks at him. He looks mostly perplexed until the realisation hits him. After that he looks downright miserable. “Of course, I should have known.”

He shakes his head slightly. “You couldn’t have known. My texts were kind of—repetitive,” he says, because most of them just consisted of him asking if he was okay, not the other way around.

“Not only I’m an asshole, but I’m apparently also self-absorbed and selfish, too,” he says with a short and sharp laugh, but it does not sound like a joke.

“Not true,” he argues and pats his arm.

He glances at his hand that still rests on his arm. He quickly looks away. He absentmindedly fishes his stele out of his pocket and starts to twitch it nervously instead of his hands. “I was also scared.”

“Scared?”

“That you’re angry at me,” he says, apparently sincerely and accompanies his confession with a saddest attempt of smile Simon has ever seen.

“Why would I be angry?” Simon asks, and he means it as an honest question instead of a rhetorical one, but as soon as he says it, he comes up with a reason. “Okay, I’m a little mad.”

Jace looks genuinely shocked and spooked.

“About the poison dart thing,” he quickly clarifies. He holds his thumb and index finger really close to each other. “But only like that amount of mad.”

Jace quickly recovers from his shock, but instead he looks disappointed and uncomfortable with the whole situation. He looks like he wants to run away at any second. “I meant the kiss,” he corrects him, but his voice is barely a whisper.

Suddenly, there is a lump in his throat. “Oh. That was nothing,” he lies as well as he can with a dismissive wave of a hand. “Nothing to be angry about.”

Jace stares at him and studies his face. His gaze is a little unnerving because it feels as if it goes right through his skin and sees the whole mess of unrequited feelings.

“You’re a crappy liar,” Jace tells him with a hint of sadness in his voice. Simon stares at his shoes and bites his lip as he tries to come up with a way to get out of this mess without revealing anything to him. It is not easy.

He makes the mistake of glancing at Jace, though. He does not look sad. He looks hurt and defeated, even though he is trying his best to conceal it. Yet, he can see right through the cracks.

Jace stands up quickly and heads towards the more crowded part of the park.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Simon calls after him with a grimace and closes his eyes. He does not even know if he heard him, but he is not going to make him suffer any more than necessary just because a misunderstanding gives him an easy way out.

When he opens his eyes, Jace has turned around, but he still stands further away, and he cannot say he would look particularly happy.

“It was something,” he admits, slowly and reluctantly, “but not for the reason you might think,” he adds and points at him.

Now, Jace looks more confused and curious than anything else, and Simon considers it as a temporary win. He even sits back down next to him.

Suddenly, it is Simon who feels nauseated. This is the moment he has been dreading ever since he realised what he felt. It will be awful. Everything will change irreversibly, and he cannot help it. Jace probably will not be cruel about it, but he will be too nice about it and everything between them will become awkward.

If his heart still had a beat, it would be racing.

“It was something,” he starts again, and it feels as if he is going to choke on thin air. He hates how weak his own voice sounds. He presses his right hand into a fist. “Because I kind of liked it.”

It feels as if someone had sucker punched him in the stomach and all of the air was running out. His ears are ringing, but there is no going back. He puts his thumb and index finger about an inch away from each other. “Because I might have this size crush on you,” he adds with forced chuckle.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jace breathes out, and Simon cannot comprehend how he manages to make it so full of so complicated implications.

The silence seems to last forever, and his mind starts racing.

“You don’t have to say anything. Really, we can just forget that any of this ever happened and go on with our lives and I’ll get over this, I mean this is already becoming my specialty-,” he starts to ramble because anything is better than the silence.

“What if,” Jace interrupts him as he sharply breathes in. Simon has hard time following his train of thought because he has no idea what he means by it, but he seems to have a some sort of revelation.

“What if,” he repeats, but this time he sounds a bit more confident. He raises his hand and moves his thumb and index finger in a similar position as Simon did, but there is more space between his fingers. “I have that size crush on _you._ ”

Simon swears the world stops for a moment. He is certain he did not hear him correctly. He knows the words that come out of his mouth are in English, but they could have been all the same in Swedish, because he cannot comprehend the meaning behind them.

Jace stays silent, but he smirks. Yet, even he seems anxious.

“Is this some kind of stress reaction?” Simon blurts out. “That you’re just repeating stuff that I say.”

“No.”

Simon opens his mouth and then closes it again. He is at loss of words. He squints as he looks at him and points at him accusingly. “You didn’t even like the kiss. You acted like it was the worst thing that happened to you.”

He is not totally sure why he has to prove him wrong. Sure, he has thought about the scenario of him returning his feelings, but it was completely speculative and hypothetical. Completely not realistic. Definitely not as scary as it is now.

“I didn’t want to take advantage of you,” Jace explains with a small and sad-looking shrug.

“You didn’t--,” Simon repeats with disbelief before shaking his head. “You were like a dead fish,” he adds.

Jace sputters out a tiny but surprised laugh. “That’s a first,” he tells him and keeps a short pause. “It was my idea and I didn’t want to trick you into anything--. I know you hate being lied to.”

Simon guesses he has to think about the possibility of this all being real. He speaks in a quiet voice, but he seems genuinely sincere. He has stopped all of his nervous habits, and just looks at him in a very gentle way.

“This is real,” he says and he is not sure even himself if he means it as a statement or a question. He can hear the edge of doubt in his own voice and Jace’s smile falters for a moment.

“Yeah.”

Simon bites his bottom lip again. “That actually explains a lot.”

Jace hums quietly in agreement. He moves his hand slightly closer to his. Simon is feeling sentimental, so he brushes his knuckles with his own.

A delighted smile spreads on his face as the realisation hits him. He mimics the small but significant movement. Simon could keep it going, but he is also feeling unusually bold, so he just grabs his hand.   

Jace immediately curls his fingers around his hand. It is slightly awkward way to hold hands, but he holds his hand tightly and it seems kind of perfect, anyway.

They stay like that for a moment. Simon cannot think of anything suitable to say. He is afraid that anything he will say would ruin the mood completely. No words feel sufficient enough.

However, it is New York that ruins the mood. A couple near the hotdog stand starts to argue loudly and they are both distracted by it enough to look in their direction. Jace huffs, but his smile is warm.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Simon whispers as he is already grabbing Jace by the collar of his jacket and pulling him closer.

It is completely different from their first kiss. First of all, it is more relaxed and slower. It is as if they had all the time in the world. Second of all, it is definitely better just because this time, Jace is actually responding to it.

His lips are warm and little rough against his, but the kiss is still so unbelievably gentle. He is still grabbing the collar in his hand, and Jace has cupped his face with both of his hands. His thumb caresses his cheek in a very similar manner than all those weeks ago in the destroyed roof top. Simon melts into the kiss a little more.

When Jace has to pull away to breathe, they still remain closer than necessary. He leans against his forehead. His skin is radiating warmth and Simon feels pretty enamoured.

“Okay, that definitely was real,” Simon tells him with a laugh and Jace laughs, too.

“I told you so.”

***

Simon loses the track of time. It definitely has been hours since their talk at the park bench. He just does not know how many hours. It is probably night because he can see a glimpse of dark night sky from his window.

He did not close the curtains properly and a street lamp’s light is casting shadows on the wall and providing slight light.

They ended up to his apartment, Simon at least thinks it is his now, because Kyle moved out. Jace looked like he could collapse from exhaustion and Simon felt at least half as bad, so they collapsed to bed together and have been sleeping since.

He just woke up and Jace is still soundly asleep next to him. He even snores a little and his occasional deep breaths move a lock of his hair back and forth across his face. He looks peaceful and he is almost sure he is not currently having any nightmares.

It still feels a little too intimate to watch him sleep, so he stares at the ceiling instead. He slept better than in days, but he is still tired. His mind still keeps racing about everything and it will not let him catch a break.

The bed is narrow and it is distracting because he can constantly feel the touch of Jace against his skin. Their knees are pumping into each other. Simon is convinced his left leg is somewhere between Jace’s legs and the duvet. Jace’s right arm is mostly on top of his chest.

He was happy after their talk, and he still sort of is, but now worry is slowly taking over his mind. Mostly, because Jace still is not okay, and he is not okay, either, and it is very hard to come up with a solution to make either one of them feel more okay.

Partly, because they did not really speak about what happens next.

He does now believe that Jace’s feelings are genuine, but it does not mean he wants anything serious beyond friendship. He sort of wants to give it a go. There are no guarantees of happiness or that the thing they maybe have going on will even work. Yet, he wants to hope. He has gotten good at that.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Jace mutters beside him, even though his eyes are still closed. A small smile keeps dancing on his lips.

“I’m not,” Simon immediately denies, trying to lose the tension from his body. He tries to smile as convincingly as he can.

He opens his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

“Stuff,” he says vaguely, “that happens next.”

Jace breathes in more sharply than necessary. He builds up tension in his body, too, even though it seems involuntary. “Yeah.”

“What do you want to happen next?” He asks, slightly tentatively, because it is as much his choice as it is his, and he is not quite sure if he wants to hear his thoughts.

He sighs deeply. “I don’t know,” he whispers. The room is dark, but Simon can still see his face and he looks uncomfortable. Soon enough, he sits up, but he does not leave the bed. Instead, he leans against the wall and hugs his knees.

Simon moves next to him, but he lets his legs hang slightly over the edge of the bed.

“I like you,” Jace says, looking serious, “but I don’t want to lose what we have now.”

Simon guesses he has a point there, somewhere. He is not sure, but he thinks he does not have that many friends. He knows fellow shadowhunters a lot, but he has not seen any sign of friendship.

“I’m crap at keeping friends,” he adds with a scoff. “It’s a small miracle that Clary even talks to me after all.”

“We can still be friends, you know, even if we’re dating,” Simon offers, somewhat awkwardly. “And I promise we can be friends even if it doesn’t work out.”

Jace just looks at him strangely. “Okay, yeah. I just—“, he starts but his voice fades away. He looks at his knee intensively before he starts to twitch his hands again.

Simon touches his knee gently.

“I don’t know how good I’ll be at it, there’s no guarantees I won’t push you away again, just because I feel like you’ll be better off without me,” he says, sounding sad, but still as if he completely believes it.

Simon bites his lip because there might be a grain of truth in his words, but then again there is no way of telling how it will go and how it might end. He does not like the idea that Jace thinks he is the one who will ruin it.

It is all up in the air. It is the future. Neither one of them can predict it. It is kind of comforting to not know what will happen, but there is always the uncertainty in it, too and it is kind of terrifying.

“There aren’t any guarantees and we can play it safe, if you want, or we could just make promises and try to keep them,” he offers softly. He traces small circles against his knee.

Jace stays quiet.

“Maybe this won’t work and it won’t go according to the plan or expectations, the track record really isn’t on our side on that one, but we have survived worse, like hell.”

Jace sputters out a laugh. “You make it sound so romantic. It won’t be as bad as literal hell.”

Simon grins, but still elbows him in the ribs. “You’re insufferable.”

“Okay,” he breathes out so softly that Simon is half sure he is just imagining it.

“Okay what?”

“Let’s try,” he clarifies with a tiny but hopeful smile.

Simon reaches to grab his phone from the night stand. He opens the notes app and looks at Jace, who looks amused.

“What do you wanna promise?” He asks almost completely seriously.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “That I’m not gonna push you away.”

He points at him with his finger. “That’s a good one,” he says, and quickly writes it down. “And I’ll give you space when you need it.”

Jace hums softly but approvingly.

“And no more poison darts,” Simon deadpans, but he still writes it down.

Jace chuckles. “Or road trips to hell.”

“That’s a very valid point,” he comments with a grin as he writes it, too. “Anything else?”

“I’ll try to be more accepting of the whole vampire thing,” he says, quietly, and seemingly serious.

Simon’s stomach twists, but mostly in a pleasant way. He cannot believe Jace hung up on that one, mostly insignificant thing, he half-accidently confessed in a sleep deprived state. He writes it down and looks at Jace. “And I’ll accept you the way you’re,” he tries to keep his voice light and joking, but it fails in almost every way.

Jace peers over to look at the phone. “That seems pretty good.”

“Yeah,” he replies happily, taking a screenshot of their shortish list of promises. “I’ll send you this.”

“Great,” he whispers, suddenly cupping his face. “But later, because we’ve better things to do,” he adds, and kisses him.

Simon agrees with him, even though he does not get a chance to say it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The good news are that the next and final chapter is almost written and the bad news are that I rewrote this so many times during the last three weeks that I'm completely blind to all the mistakes this chapter might have.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself a promise that I would finish this fic before 3b airs and I did it with hours to spare. Also, I know epilogue is supposed to be short-ish chapter with a time jump, but this is more like eight mini epilogues wrapped into one?

**1 month later**

It is late in the night and Simon is on the verge of falling asleep. He is already on his bed, wrapped up in a soft and warm duvet, and Jace’s arm is lazily half-wrapped over him. It is the quiet in between moment, where he is not quite yet asleep, but not fully awake, either. It is calm.

“Hey, are you awake?” Jace whispers, very quietly, but loudly enough to pull him fully back from the almost-sleep.

“Hmm, yeah, kind of,” he slurs as he slowly opens his eyes. He tries to look over his shoulder to see him, but it is pointless. He turns from his side, on to his back, and glances at him.

His face is close to his, and he does not look like he has slept a second since they went to bed. Yet, he does not even look tired. His eyes are gleaming with something that looks suspiciously lot like curiosity, but there is also warmth and gentleness.

He has been looking at him like that a lot lately. Simon does not mind, at all.

“Cannot sleep?” He asks, softly, as he touches his cheek.

Jace nods as well as he can with the pillow under his head.

“A nightmare?” He asks, just to be sure, because he has made him promise on more than one account that he will wake him up if he gets them.

“Not this time,” he whispers. “Just cannot sleep.”

“Okay.” Simon feels nearly relieved to hear that. He hates when Jace gets nightmares. Mostly, because he knows how much he is hurting and suffering. Partly, because he feels so helpless when he cannot help him.

Simon is tempted to ask why he woke him up from almost-sleep, but instead, he just watches him. His hair is untidy, half of it is hanging on his face, even though he tries to push it away occasionally.

“And I was just thinking that did you ever figure out what was the memory you lost, you know—“, Jace says and he does a vague wave of a hand that is probably meant to symbolise their journey to hell.

“That’s what you’re wondering in the middle of the night?” He asks amusedly and Jace flashes him a sheepish smile, but he does not take the question back or defend it, so he knows he is being serious and sincere about it.

It is a good question. He has not figured it out. It is weird to think that all of it happened just a month ago, because it definitely feels like it was a life time ago. He thinks about Edom sometimes, but he does not like to think about it. It just keeps popping into his mind.

Nowadays, it is even rarer that they talk about it.

“No, it could be anything,” he tells truthfully. Jace’s guess is as good as his. Any guess is.

It is a very vague answer, but he seems content with the answer because he nods decisively. “That’s all. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Simon huffs softly. “First of all, I was awake,” he points out matter-of-factly, “second of all, are you okay?”

 “Yeah, of course,” he replies almost immediately, too fast to be completely honest. “Go to sleep.”

Simon squints at him, just to let him know that he does not believe him, but he will let it slide if he wants so.

“Really,” Jace says, apparently realising exactly what the squint means.

“Okay,” Simon whispers and absentmindedly plants a kiss on his arm before turning on his other side, again. He resettles his duvet as he closes his eyes. “Love you.”

There is a one quiet and peaceful moment before his brain catches up with what he just confessed. When he does realise it, he opens his eyes, but he tries to stay as still as he can. He wants to believe there is a small chance that he murmured so badly that everything he said was incomprehensible to Jace.

He knows it is not true because behind him Jace is being very still, too.

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?” Simon says with an attempt of easy laughter. It comes out as forced and fake.

“You did,” he confirms with surprisingly calm voice.

Simon is not sure what to do or to say. His thoughts are like a ball of yarn, all tangled up in each other and difficult to distinguish from each other.

He knows he meant it. It is the truth, but he did not mean to say it aloud. It is not that he does not want to Jace to know, but he does not want freak him out. They were supposed to take slow and small baby steps. Nothing else. No love declaration slips in the middle of the night.

“I-“

“You-,” Jace starts at the same time, but stops as soon as he realises that he opened his mouth, too. “You first.”

Simon sighs because he really wanted to hear what he had to say, but he guesses it is only fair. He rolls on his back. He glances at Jace, but he looks as calm as he sounds.

“I didn’t mean it,” Simon starts, “I mean I did mean _it,_ I just didn’t mean to say it aloud, not like that. Not like some half-assed slip or anything like that and maybe not this early—”.

“Si,” Jace interrupts, surprisingly gently, as he pokes him in the arm. “It wasn’t the first time.”

“What?”

“You may have said it a couple times during this week,” Jace attempts to explain. “In your sleep,” he adds as a clarification with a smug smile.

Simon opens his mouth, but no words come out. Jace’s grin gets wider, though.

“I had no idea and don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Simon deadpans as he nudges him.

“Hey, I’m just glad to know it was meant for me,” Jace whispers happily and presses slow kisses along his jawline.

“Obviously,” he tells him sincerely, even though he cannot remember saying it only but once. He runs his fingers against his bicep.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t wanna force you say anything you didn’t want to admit,” he explains.

Simon nods, because it is actually very thoughtful and sweet, but he also kind of wants to laugh because both of them tried to protect each other from everything becoming too much too soon.

“It’s still kind of embarrassing,” he muses as he stares at the ceiling.

“Nah, I like it,” Jace whispers against his neck, “and you know, I love you, too.”

Simon cannot help but smile, too. The way he says it makes a tingling appear in the bottom of his stomach in the best way possible, and maybe he is a little glad about the fact that they are unable to sleep.

 

**2 months later**

Jace is looking through a series of bad quality security camera tapes to attempt  catch a glimpse of the possible demon that is terrorizing a certain part of Brooklyn.

He has been at it for hours during the early hours of the morning. The rest of the institute is only now waking up around him as the sunlight floods in from the high and multicoloured windows.

His eyes feel dry and his gaze is becoming blurry, and there definitely is a headache developing in the back of his head. He leans back on his chair and drags his hands along his face in a very poor attempt to feel more alert.

He is embarrassed to admit that he is a little startled when somebody places something on his desk. He opens his eyes to see a cup of coffee and a filled croissant next to the computer. Simon leans onto the desk and smiles at him. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks, a little perplexed because he did not expect to see him at all today. He does grab the coffee cup almost immediately.

“I’ve very official vampire clan business Raphael put me up with Izzy and you know me, I’m a great multitasker,” he declares with a radiant grin and gestures towards the croissant and him.

“Thank you,” Jace says as sincerely as he can because coffee has never tasted better.

Simon quickly kisses his hair. “No problem.”

A few shadowhunters walk past the desk and they are glaring at them as if they were doing something scandalous instead of just talking. Jace tries to ignore them.

They did not even tell that many people about the development of their relationship, but gossips spread like wild fire at the institute and in downworld, too. Sometimes it feels as if everybody knows about them.

“Anyway, I have to go, but I’ll see you---sometime?” Simon says with a shrug. “Hopefully soon.”

“Yeah,” Jace waves him a goodbye as he sips his coffee and Simon hurries along the corridor. He tries to come up with a solution how to fit their ridiculous schedules together, but he cannot dwell on that thought too long because he spots more people glaring at him.

Woman with curly hair, Jace thinks her name is Amanda, but he is not quite sure, walks past quickly, but not fast enough not to glare at him and to the direction which Simon disappeared, and whisper to the guy next to him “that won’t last.”

Jace is not quite sure if she meant him to hear it, but he still did. He is not sure why it makes him feel as bad as it does. It is not even the worst thing he has ever heard about himself or them, but still it stings in a way he cannot explain.

He stares at the croissant. Maybe it hurts because he has thought about it, too. Occasionally. Maybe more now than before. The thought of it is nagging in the corner of his mind and it is becoming hard to ignore.

They are happy, he knows it. There is nothing _actually_ wrong. Everything is fine, although they are spending less and less time together.

He is not that worried that he will fuck up things between them irreversibly, but more worried about the possibility of novelty wearing off. That Simon will get bored and realise that he is not worth of all the trouble.

He knows it is unlikely. Kind of. Possibly. Maybe.

It is a slippery slope and he does not want to think about it. He tries to push the thoughts away and luckily the footage viewing is mind numbing.

***

It is a Friday night and Hunter’s Moon is buzzing with people. By some miracle, he and Simon managed to get a booth from the back of the bar. There is music playing softly in the background and even though the place is crowded, the noise is not deafening. It is almost pleasant.

The right corner of Simon’s mouth is twitching into a half smile as he drinks blood from a lavish glass. The way he looks at him is so full of warmth and love that it makes his stomach do somersaults in the best possible way. Yet again, he wonders what he has done to deserve to be looked like that by him.

Jace picks up yet another french fry from his own plate and he cannot fight against the small smile, either. It is kind of dumb because neither one of them is even talking, but he is happy.

“I forgot to tell you about this cute dog I saw today,” Simon suddenly says and puts down his glass. “So I was walking through the park and there is the pond, you know the one. By the pond there was a girl and she had poodle, at least it looked like a poodle, and she had picked the dog up so that he could see the ducks better—”

Jace is aware that his dog story continues, and he tries to focus, but he cannot help but pick up the conservation that two fairies are having nearby. He only realises that they are even there because they are so painstakingly obviously talking about them.

_“He is probably feeding on him.”_

_“How long do you think encanto can last?”_

He sees red. Apparently, he looks like it as well, or at least Simon picks it up, because he quickly places his hand over his. “Not worth it,” he quickly says with a small shrug.

Jace sighs deeply and lets the tension from his body slip away. “You heard that?”

The only reason he even got so worked up so quickly was because this time the whispers and the glares were directed at Simon instead of him.

“I did,” he confirms and sips his drink, but he does not let go of his hand. His hold is still firm and calming.

“It doesn’t bother you?” He blurts out, even though it seems that Simon wants to forget the whole thing.

“It does, but there’s nothing we can do about it, they are just trying to explain something they don’t understand,” he adds, sounding as if he has put some serious thought into it. “I cannot blame them, at first we were at each other’s throats and now-,” he does a vague gesture between them.

From their point of view, Jace thinks, it is actually gradual and slow process and maybe something that was inevitable to happen. “You might have a point with that,” he admits.

“Yeah,” he says, “and besides, most of the downworld doesn’t like me very much because of the mark, so obviously they want to believe that I’m deceiving and mind controlling people,” he adds with a laugh.

Jace stares at him, mostly because he is wondering where in the hell he finds the energy to joke about all the terrible things that are happening to him, but he does not know how to say it or how to make it better. He feels helpless.

“I’m just sorry you have to hear that crap.”

He squeezes his hand, but his smile is sympathetic. “I’m not the only one.”

“What?”

“At the Institute yesterday morning,” he adds as a clarification. “I heard it, too.”

“Oh,” Jace breaths out, unsure of what else to say. He had no idea. It felt somehow easier knowing that he was the only one who had to deal with that one.

“You looked sad,” he adds, a little tentatively.

Jace scratches his neck. “It may have brought up some—stuff.”

Simon nods, but now he looks upset, too. “Sorry, I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Jace shakes his head slightly. He does not need apologizes. “It’s okay.”

Simon bites his lower lip and looks thoughtful. He rubs his thumb with his own. “Does it bother you a lot?”

That is a rather difficult question. It bothers him a lot more when people are directing their jabs at Simon, especially if the whispers are somehow related to him being a vampire. It mostly makes him upset when the whispers are about him and his inability to keep a relationship going.

“A bit,” he eventually replies. “Only because it makes me think it might be the truth.”

Suddenly, Simon looks horrified. There is clear shock on his face, before he composes himself and after that he looks like a kicked puppy. His eyes are full of disbelief.

“I’d never do that to you,” he replies firmly but quickly. “I’d never alternate your memory or make you do something against your will, that’s just a horrifying--,”

It takes him a few seconds to realise what he is talking about. “Si, I know that. Okay? I know that. The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind,” he tells him truthfully. “I meant the other thing, not that one.”

“Oh,” Simon says, involuntarily, and looks at his drink. He looks a bit relieved, but still puzzled. He looks up. “You don’t believe we will last?”

He attempts to say it casually. It feels like a punch in the gut because that is not what he meant. He scratches the back of his head.

“No, yes, maybe,” he replies, fully knowing that he does not make any sense. It is difficult to put his thoughts and fears into actual words that make sense. He looks up at Simon helplessly.

Simon’s eyes are not emotionless, even though Jace guesses that is what he is trying to do. The hurt flickers in his eyes occasionally, but mostly he looks just confused.

“I want us to last,” Jace adds as a clarification. “It’s just—my, ugh, I’m me.”

Simon’s face softens as he says it. “And this is exactly why this is working,” he says and a playful smile tugs in the corner of his mouth.

Jace huffs. “I just know I’m a lot and you will just get bored or fed up with everything,” he says, because he feels like honesty is the best way to go.

Simon looks at him sympathetically. He has having surprisingly lot of patience, because Jace feels like they had the exact same conversation two months ago in Simon’s bedroom.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re not a lot or anything else you might imagine. I know you and I want to know you better. I’m not gonna get fed up or bored, that’s not going to happen,” he tells him gently but decisively. His smile turns brighter. “And I think we are still doing pretty well with the promises,” he fishes his phone out of pocket. “Yeah, no promises broken and it is not bad as Edom.”

Jace lets out half-chuckle. “That’s true.”

“So we are fine,” Simon concludes and his logic might not be completely sound, but somehow it still makes him feel a little better. It makes him have hope.

 

**2 and a half months later  
**

“Darling?”

“No, that sounds sarcastic and old. Besides, that’s a name of a river.”

Simon laughs as Jace looks genuinely disgusted by the idea. He looks at the TV, but Simon guesses he is not really watching it.

It is a Monday afternoon and they are lying side by side on a sofa in Simon’s apartment. Both of them have raised their feet on the coffee table and their legs are touching. The sunlight floods into the apartment from the window and their feet cast shadows across the table. Simon nudges Jace’s right foot with his big toe.

“Dear?”

“No,” Jace replies as he shakes his head and tries to continue watching what seems to be one of the countless cooking shows.

Simon hums happily as he tries to come up with another pet name. He is not being completely serious, but he is bored and he likes to mess with him.

Simon turns his head and looks at him. “Sweetheart?”

Jace presses his lips together and shakes his head more furiously than before. “Absolutely not.”

He shakes as he tries to stifle down his laughter. The truth is that none of the names he is throwing around just as a joke actually fit Jace. That and his reactions are endless source of entertainment for him, but maybe the underlaying reason is that he kind of wants to find a suitable pet name.

A part of it is that he likes nicknames and all of that. He likes to show his affection that way, but for now, it is mostly just a way to pass the time.

“Babe?” Simon suggests.

“That’s horrible,” Jace replies immediately, and he is not completely sure if he means the name or the burnt pancake on TV. Simon guesses it is the name.

“Fine,” he deadpans and pauses, before he grins again. “Honey?”

“No,” he replies with a fake exasperated sigh. “Why do you even need one?” He asks, and he glances at him quickly and he does seem genuinely curious.

“I feel like it’s gonna annoy you,” he replies with a shit eating grin.

“Oh wow,” Jace manages to say as he laughs. “Romance isn’t dead after all.”

Simon hums as he picks up Jace’s hand and intertwines their fingers. “I know, I’m keeping it alive. Love?”

He seems to consider this one as he watches how some man’s cake falls on the floor and spreads to everywhere. “Not as bad as some of them, but no.”

Simon is running out of ideas, but he wants to keep trying. “Better half? No, that’s a term.”

He points at him with his finger. “That’s the spirit, keep shooting them down by yourself,” he tells smugly.

“Alright, fellow associate,” Simon chuckles.

Some laughter erupts from Jace, too. Some woman is crying at TV because she boiled the pasta wrong and she is running out of time.

He is silent for a couple of minutes and he lets go of Jace’s hand. Instead, he draws unsymmetrical circles against his thigh.

 “Sunshine?” He suggests absent-mindedly as he is now too invested in knowing what happens to the pasta lady.

Jace’s leg tenses up for a second under his touch. He relaxes it again, but the movement is enough for Simon to look at his face. He is quiet and he is really thinking about it or at least it looks like it. His gaze is focused on his own socks.

His eyebrows are burrowed, and he looks slightly perplexed as he looks at him. He raises his hand and gently pokes Simon’s forehead. “Because of the mark?”

It takes a moment for Simon to realise what he means. Jace’s blood most likely gave him the mark. The mark made him a daylighter, able to walk in the sun. Jace gave sunlight back into his live, indirectly, but still.

“I didn’t even think about it like that,” Simon tells him, “but it’s perfect and you came up with yourself,” he adds, happily.

Jace glances at him and his grin. “I only did half of the work.”

“Team work makes the dream work,” Simon declares, deadpan, and raises his fist and waits Jace to pump it with his own, which he does with mock reluctance, but he is still smiling.

 

**3 months later**

He and Simon do not really fight. They do not have heated arguments or anything like that. They bicker, for sure. They have since the day they met. It is a part of their dynamics, even though there usually is not any heat behind their bickering.

It is precisely why he feels so upset about their fight. It feels like a huge deal because it does not usually happen, and he is almost anxious to see Simon again.

He stands in front of Simon’s apartment building. He has been standing there for last ten minutes, trying to summon courage. He feels almost nauseated as he looks up and his eyes find Simon’s kitchen window. He presses his hand into a fist and the small key he is holding, presses painfully against his skin. He opens his fist and sees the red marks the key left.

He sighs and walks up to the door. As he steps in and starts to walk up the stairs, he cannot help but replay the fight in his head.

It was mere hours ago, but he still feels like he has forgotten bits. He does remember it was ugly. They said horrible and terrible things to each other with every intention to hurt the other. The worst part is that they did not even yell. Borderline yelling, for sure, but otherwise it was more of a hissing and speaking with as normal tone as possible.

He reaches Simon’s door faster than he wanted to. He takes deep breaths and stares intensively at the part of the door where the brown paint is peeling off. He tries to justify himself that he has a right to be there. He half-lives there and he has a key.

Simon would have told him if he did not want to see him again, he thinks. As soon as the thought surfaces in his mind, he tries to not to think about the possibility or likelihood of that.

He opens and closes the door slowly. The apartment is silent as he kicks off his shoes. Yet, the silence is not eerie. The lights are on and he can sense that Simon is at home. Yet, he cannot see him. He puts the key into pocket of his jacket as he walks towards the small living room.

Simon sits at the corner of the sofa and he looks quite miserable under a huge blanket. Jace’s heart falls unpleasantly as he realises that he is the one who caused this.

Simon does not look at him or acknowledge him in any way. Jace is not sure if it is because he does not realise he is there or if he does not want to realise it.

“I can go away,” Jace offers as a greeting as he stops few meters away from the couch.

Simon startles and looks at him. There is gentleness in the way he looks at him and he shakes his head. He kicks the blanket away so that it does not cover the whole couch. “Stay, if you want.”

He does not need to be asked twice. He takes off his jacket and tosses it to the coffee table as he sits down. Simon throws the blanket over him, too and he gives him a sheepish smile. It feels a little awkward, but he feels a lot better than when he was standing outside the building.

The fight was about the fact that he got hurt on a mission yesterday. Simon thought it would have been preventable and it only happened because Jace is reckless and he just throws himself at danger without any regard to what happens to himself.

He got angry about it and he might have accused him of overreacting and of not understanding what it means to be a shadowhunter.

It felt like finally their worlds clashed and not in a good way. In a bad way that almost felt inevitable when it happened.

“I’m so sorry,” Simon whispers even though they are sitting close.

“I’m sorry, too,” Jace echoes, in the same almost-whispering tone.

He feels bolder now, knowing that Simon is not too mad at him anymore and his own anger has evaporated as well. He takes his hand into his own and brings it up against his lips and kisses his knuckles.

“Will we be okay?” He asks as he lets him press kisses all over his hand. He knows his better at actions than talking.

“Yeah,” Jace replies, more like breathing it out than saying. He lowers his hand, but holds it still gently as if it was the most precious thing his hands have ever hold. “Yeah.”

Simon nods as in agreement and just stares at him for a moment. “Maybe this is where my ugly meets your ugly.”

“What?”

He shifts in his seat. “You know how some people keep saying that the person they are dating is their other half and they complete them?”

Jace nods, and he cannot help but think that there might be a grain of truth in that statement. He likes to think that at least.

“So it cannot be all good, right? There must be ugly and nasty parts, too that complete each other. My fear of losing another person and your need to do shadowhunting the way you do,” he clarifies. “They amplify each other.”

Jace stays quiet for a moment as he thinks about it. “First, shadowhunting isn’t a verb,” he tells with a tiny smile. “And yeah, that does make sense,” he admits.

He looks at Simon’s hand instead of him. It feels somehow safer, considering what he is about to tell him. “It might be a little more than way of being a shadowhunter.”

Simon perks up at that. He looks focused and Jace can feel his gaze on him, but it is not pressuring. It is just his way of letting him know that he has his full attention, but there is no rush.

“It is--,” he starts, but his throat dries up. “Valentine might have taught me it? Maybe. That I was expandable and that dying, sacrificing myself, was the greatest thing I could do.”

The words bubble out of him and saying it out loud makes it feel more real. He suddenly feels very vulnerable, but somehow it does not feel as bad as he expected. He still feels safe.

He is not looking at Simon, but he still sees the movement as he gets closer to him and gently yanks his hand free. He does it only to support his neck with it and pull him closer.

“You aren’t expandable, in any way,” he says. “Not to Alec, not to Izzy. Not to me or to anyone,” he adds and he speaks it in a way that makes it seem like he has never been more sure about anything else in his life.

There is a lump in his throat. He knows it, logically, that he has a meaningful part in his loved ones’ lives and that he can do a hell of a lot more good alive than dead, but it is still different thing to hear it. It is nice to hear it.

“Thank you,” he says, without any intention, and it is not the most eloquent response, but it is the best he can give at the moment.

Simon smiles at him and it is kind of a complex smile. It tells a lot of things. Jace briefly wonders whether he has just mastered the skill of reading Simon or if he is just the master at conveying multiple things with a smile.

It is a little tentative, because they both know they still need to talk about the fight. A few ‘ _I’m sorrys’_ will not undo all of the hurt they caused. They know the reasons why they ended up acting the way they did, but it still does not give them the justification.

The smile is still reassuring that everything will be okay and maybe in this moment, everything is okay for a little while.

Simon closes the distance between them and kisses him. His lips are warm and there is an edge of desperation in the way he kisses him, but it is still mostly gentle. Jace responds to it as well as he can because of the little awkward angle they are in.

Simon seems to notice it and pushes Jace down to the sofa. He does not mind. In a moment, Simon is astride on top of him and the blanket is probably somewhere on the floor.

The couch is too small for them. His legs are dangling over the armrest and Simon’s legs are just pressing against his. He thinks there is a high possibility that they will fall off at some point, but he does not care about that. The bed is too far away, anyway.

Simon hoovers over him, and Jace grabs the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer again. He needs him close. They are kissing again and the desperation creeps into the kiss, again. The kiss tastes metallic and like his own sweat, but he does not care.

All of the fears he has had since they had the fight are pouring into the kisses and the way he holds him. He holds him tight as if he feared that he would disappear at any given moment.

Simon’s hair was already a mess before and the way his hand is making its way through it is probably not helping at all.

Simon pulls away and he props himself up on his arms. He is once again hoovering over him, but still very near. His eyes are dark, but full of affection. “You okay?”

Jace takes a deep breath and answers to his gaze. “Yeah, I’m okay. You?”

Simon closes his eyes. “Yeah. I just--,” he sighs in mild frustration.

“Yeah?” He says, running his thumb against his cheek and jawline.

“I don’t know how to put this into words, but you’re really-- important to me and I love you,” he says quickly, but he stays still.

Normally, Simon does not throw the love declarations around as much as Jace would have expected when they started dating and it is fine. He has his own ways of showing love and so does him. But it still throws him off a little.

It dawns on him that the fight might have affected him in an unexpected way, too.

“I know, and I love you, too,” he says, gently.

Simon blinks his eyes and the tiny smile returns to his lips. He undresses his t-shirt and tosses it somewhere close by. He helps Jace to get rid of his shirt, which is easier said than done, but he still manages to pull it off.

Simon glances quickly at his new scars caused by demon claws, but he does not say anything.

Then his lips are back on his, heavy and slow, like they had the all the time in the world. He is no longer propping himself up, so most of his weight lays on him and his skin feels cold against his, but it feels like his touch is electricity.

Despite everything, he feels safe and there is no other place he would rather be.

 

**6 months later**

Sometimes, the demon attacks happen across the city and in very inconvenient places, but sometimes they happen nearby the institute.

Jace is grateful about the stupidity of demons because this time, they appeared on a nearby park, almost across the street. Usually, the distance is not a problem, but he twisted his ankle as he tried to destroy the last demon and while he can walk, he is happy he does not have to limp across the city.

The institute is surrounded by area that looks like a park, but it is actually an old graveyard. He limps past the graves and he spots Simon standing a little further away. Probably waiting for him. He was supposed to meet him, but demons messed up his schedule.

“You’re limping,” he says as a greeting and he frowns as he stares at his slightly swollen ankle.

“A bit,” he admits with a nonchalant shrug and he kisses his cheek.

He smiles quickly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers, but he accepts Simon’s help as he offers his hand to help him hobble on.

“Are you going to accuse me being a drug dealer again?” He mumbles as a joke as they slowly make their way towards the institute.

“What?” Simon asks, puzzled, as if he is not realising the significance of the place.

“Admittedly, it’s not the definition of meet cute, but at least it is memorable,” he says as he looks around the place where they met for the first time.

“We met here?” He looks confused and he looks around himself, too, as if the graves or the institute could trigger his memory. The perplexation stays in his eyes.

“You were worried about Clary ‘cause she was being weird and then you saw me with her, and your conclusion was that I was a dealer,” he reminds him with a curious glare.

“I don’t remember that--,” he starts, but then realisation dawns on his face. “This must be it, my missing memory.”

Jace lets out a delighted chuckle. “Hah, you like me after all.”

“We have dated for six months. I think it is little obvious that I little more than like you,” he deadpans, but a tiny amused smile dances on his lips.

It has been a half a year, but still, his stomach flips when he says that he likes him or when he smiles at him. Jace wonders when it will stop, but he kind of hopes it will never stop.

“Still,” he says smugly.

**7 months later**

Jace walks quickly, but he is looking around him and he tries to keep track of his surroundings. It is difficult because it is middle of the night, and the street he is walking down has half of its streetlamps dark. He is pretty sure he has never been in this part of the city and it is not helping him at all.

It is drizzling slightly and Jace peers down yet another alley. It is dark, but empty. He sighs as he continues and looks over his shoulder, but the street behind him is also deserted. He feels like he is on wild goose chase, because he has nothing to track with and there are pretty high chances that the thing he is tracking does not even exist.

The institute got an alert about a mundane that got bitten, but that is all they know about the case. It could have been a werewolf, vampire, some sort of demon or even one of the fairies. It might have been a dog, all they know. Sometimes, the reports are false or misunderstandings.

Jace guesses that even if it was a downworlder gone rogue against the accords, they would have not stuck around for long. They would have known that someone was coming after them for what they did.

He knows this case is not a priority because he was the only one sent to check out the situation. He thinks that Alec neither believes this will be an actual case, but protocols bound them to check it out.

The next alley is as empty as the one before, but still Jace grasps the handle of his seraph blade. The alley after that seems empty as the first glance, but he is quite sure something is moving behind the dark green dumpster.

It is dark, so it is difficult to see, even with his night-time vision rune. It could be just a trick of his eyes or a rat. It might be something that is completely unrelated to the case. Yet, he turns to the alley and pulls out his seraph blade.

He whispers its name and it starts to glow with its familiar blue glow. It illuminates the alley slightly and he hears a sound from behind the dumpster.

He raises the blade, just in case, and takes few tentative steps closer to the dumpster. There is no more noises and he does not see any movement. If it was a demon, it would have come out already. But still, there is something or someone.

He attempts to glance behind the dumpster, and he sees a girl. She looks young. She is definitely younger than he is, maybe a teenager. He only sees a glimpse of her, but her dark brown hair is a mess. There are few tangles in it, but otherwise it looks dirty. Her skin is pale and grey, but there is something dark on her chin.

It takes him only a few seconds to realise it is dried blood. She is wearing a light green t-shirt and there is a huge stain on it. It is probably also blood. Yet, she does not seem injured. It is not her blood, Jace thinks.

The girl has been staying completely still, but now she moves as if she was in pain and she looks at him. She looks so bewildered and scared that Jace takes a couple of steps back. He does not know if she got scared by his presence or by the blade or both. But now there is a dumpster between them and neither one of them is moving.

He tries to decide what to do, but then he hears footsteps from the adjacent building, and he raises his blade again when one of the doors opens.

It is Simon.

He is so confused that for a moment all he can do is stare and blink slowly.

Simon returns his confused gaze, although his eyes linger on his raised seraph blade.

“I almost impaled you with this,” Jace says as soon as he manages to get over the surprise and confusion. He waves the seraph blade a little, but he does not put it down completely.

“It’s your fault. Why are you poking around with it in a dark alley?” Simon asks, matter-of-factly as he huddles his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“It’s my job,” he deadpans, but it is also kind of true.

As soon as he says it, Simon’s face falls and he steps between him and the dumpster. Now it looks like he is threatening Simon with the blade.

Simon points at the dumpster. “She’s innocent.”

Jace wants to say that the blood stains tell a different story. He knows she is not the victim of the bite, because the victim was described as thirty-something male. He has a growing suspicion that she is the one he is tracking.

“Is she?” He asks, but it comes out more harsh and sarcastic than he intended.

Simon glares at him, but his emotions are shining through. He looks almost desperate, but still stubborn. “She has been recently turned and she doesn’t know any better,” he tells him and he sounds almost sombre.

So, she is a vampire. Even if a recent vampire. It does explain the bite and it does explain why Simon seems so invested in her and her fate.

“Did she bite the mundane?” Jace asks, looking past Simon at the dumpster. He knows it is a dumb question, but he needs to be sure.

Simon huffs. “That’s all you have to ask?”

He sounds more than annoyed, almost angry. He is a little startled by that. He was not expecting it. But still, it is what he has to ask. He is just doing his job.

“Did she?” He asks again, raising his eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Simon grits through his teeth. Jace guesses he is telling the truth, even though reluctantly, because he knows he knows him well enough to know when he is lying. Also, Simon is crap at lying.

The girl emerges behind the dumpster. She is taller than Jace thought, but she still looks terrified. She steadies herself by leaning on the dumpster. She shoots a suspicious look at Jace.

By reflex, he raises the blade higher. Into a defence position. Simon notices this and turns around to face the girl. “Don’t worry, I know him,” he tells her. Simon turns around again and now he is literally blocking the girl with his own body.

Jace wants to argue that he little more than knows him, but he bites his tongue. The whole situation is absurd and he does not know what to do. He tries to remind himself that right now they are not a couple who is hanging out at a dark alley with a bloody girl. He is on a mission and he has his orders.

“I’m gonna get her help,” Simon declares firmly. He has the same decisiveness in his eyes as he did when they were looking for Clary. When he is in that mood, he could go through solid rock.

“The clave--,” Jace starts, but Simon cuts him off.

“You know exactly what they are going to do to her,” he hisses and Jace does not like the images his brain is providing. “She doesn’t deserve it. _Nobody_ does. If you desperately want to chase someone, go after the one who keeps turning innocent mundane children.”

Jace stares at him. This is the one way he did not expect their lives to collide. This is not even colliding anymore. This is crashing.

He has absolutely no idea what to do or say. He is lost, but still all he is able to think about is that what if this is the moment. The moment where he is supposed to prove that he is better than the Clave and that he does not accept or represent everything they stand for. That he is better than any damn prejudice he was taught.

It is not like he cannot feel empathy. His eyes dart back to the girl. She is staring at him with her eyes huge and full of terror. She does not seem vicious, just a little helpless and lost.

He has never thought what happens to the mundanes who get turned into downworlders. They might not have anybody to guide them or explain all of the changes. They lack any sort of safety net.

It is entirely possible that she did not know about the accords. She just acted on instinct.

The horrifying thought of how many new downworlders, like her, has been imprisoned or killed by the Clave. They require help, not punishment. Once that thought enters his mind, he knows he cannot do anything.

He lowers his blade and lets it rest against his thigh. He steps aside and gives Simon a little nod.

Simon gestures the girl to walk and she hurries past him as if she did not trust him. Jace cannot blame her. Simon brushes his fingers gently with his own as he walks past him.

He is already at the other end of the alley, when Jace gets another idea.

“Si?”

He immediately turns around. “Yeah?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, putting his seraph blade back to the belt. “Just to help,” he clarifies.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly.

Turns out that Simon has parked his god-awful yellow van a couple of blocks further away. Jace lets out a small groan as he sees it again, but Simon just nudges him in the ribs.

Simon climbs to the driver’s seat, leaving him and the girl outside. They stand there a little awkwardly, until Jace pulls the back door open. The van is as terrible from the inside as he remembered, but at least Simon has gotten rid of the mattress they once slept on.

The girl climbs in and Jace is a little unsure where he is supposed to sit, but he follows the girl to the back of the van. Simon shoots him a curious glance via the rear-view mirror as he fastens his seatbelt. Jace only offers him a shrug as a response. He does not feel like leaving the girl alone.

“I’ve called Luke,” Simon informs him as he starts the engine. It sounds as if it could explode at any given moment. “He knows some place up north. He is gonna drive her there.”

They drive for a moment in silence, but Simon is humming along the songs they are playing at the radio and drums the wheel with his fingers.

The girl looks uncomfortable and she twists the hem of her blood-stained t-shirt.

“What’s your name?” He asks, surprising them all. At least, the girl looks surprised. He was not sure himself if he was actually going to say it.

“Chloe,” she tells quietly.

“Hi,” Jace tells her and he feels so out of depth with his pathetic attempt to make her feel better. Comforting is not his strongest skill, but he wants to try. He feels like he should try. “I’m Jace.”

Chloe nods a little unsurely, as if she was thinking what she would do with that piece of information.

He stares at the stain in the floor of the van. He briefly wonders what caused it, but he decides it is better not to think about that. “I know this must be very scary,” he says, “but I promise we’re going to take you somewhere safe.”

He knows it sounds vaguer than anything else, but he literally has no details to work on. “Simon knows those people,” he adds, but he is not sure if it is true. At least Luke knows them. “And he’s awesome, so if he likes those people, they must be awesome, too,” he tells her with a small smile.

Chloe just nods at him, but she looks less uncomfortable than moments ago, so Jace considers it as a win. “Luke is great, too.”

There is less traffic because it is still middle of the night, so the drive takes less time than he thought, and they soon arrive to the docks.

Simon jumps out the van and helps Chloe out, too, and he walks with her inside the Jade Wolf. Jace gets out, too, but he stays outside and leans against the van.

Simon returns ten minutes later without Chloe and Jace gets to the shotgun seat. Simon gets back to the driver’s seat and slightly tensed silence falls between them.

“Thank you,” he says, sincerely, but he bites his bottom lip as he says it.

“It’s okay,” he tells honestly, but he does not look at him. He looks at the darkness of the docks. “I mean I’m not completely terrible, I do have some sort of moral compass,” he half-jokes.

“I know that,” he says, still quietly, but it is not quite a whisper.

“Maybe next time just call me?” He offers softly, because he does not like to think what would have happened if it was someone else who found them. Both of them could be in the Clave’s prison.

Simon nods, but something in his expression makes him believe that he did not even think calling to him as a valid option.

“Yeah, sorry for not--,” he starts, but his voice rails off.

“Trusting me?” He fills in, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” he eventually says, sounding apologetic.

“It’s okay, I’m not sure if I would have trusted myself, either,” he tells him. He literally made up his decisions as he went. It is not very trust deserving. “But I have your back, no matter what.”

He is fairly sure if Simon had ended up in the prison, he would be already planning and executing a prison break.

Jace thinks Simon is about to start the car again, but instead he holds his hand. “I know, I just didn’t want to put you in the impossible situation of choosing between your people and mine,” he says carefully, as if he had thought of it before. Maybe he did.

A small lump forms in his throat. It is nice that he thought about it because the Clave would more than happy to strip him from his marks if he gave them a reason, but he still does not regret his decision to help him and her.

“You made most of the work,” Jace points out. He just let his work undone. That is a lot less than actually helping and coming up with a plan.

He glances at him as he makes a sound that sounds half protesting and half agreeing with him. He does not know how to tell him that he is proud of him or that he might have fallen more in love with him, but he decides he will tell him that, later, when he figures it out. For now, he just squeezes his hand.

 

**10 months later**

Simon blinks his eyes slowly. They feel heavy and his gaze is a little fuzzy. For a moment, he cannot understand what he is staring at. He comes to the conclusion that it is a cupboard door, a metallic one, and there is also grey, plastic-looking, floor.

It is not particularly frightening sight to see, but he realises that he is laying down on the said floor and he does not recognise the place. He has absolutely no idea how he ended up here.

His head hurts and his whole body feels stiff. His mind is not completely clear, but he knows he needs to get up. It feels like an important thing to do. Something he should do.

He tries to do so, but he just sort of flaps awkwardly. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realise that his hands are tied behind his back.

He has been kidnapped. Again.

It is not particularly happy realisation and he sighs out of frustration. He tries to get up again, and this time he succeeds by rolling to his side and scrunching himself up. He manages to lean against the wall behind him. He briefly wonders why his fangs are out. He hopes it is just some sort of stress reaction.

Then he sees him.

Jace is laying nearby. His hands are also tied behind his back with white cable tie and his body is in awkward position. The worst part is that half of his head is covered in blood. It is not dried blood and it is coming out of a nasty looking wound on his head.

It has formed already a small pool under his head.

For a moment, all he can hear is white noise and icy terror takes over of his body. It feels as if the world stops for a while. He fears he might be dead. The wound does look terrible and deep. Some part of his mind keeps reminding him that he read from somewhere that head wounds always look worse than they actually are.

He feels numb all over again and there is a huge knot in his stomach until he sees that he is breathing. The knot loosens a little, even though his breathing is shallow and it keeps hitching a little, but at least he is still alive.

“Jace,” he whispers, hoping that he is just unconscious. He repeats it a couple of times, half out of desperation and half out of not knowing what else to do.

Finally, his eyelids flutter and he opens them slowly. Simon cannot describe the relief he feels. He looks as confused as he felt moments ago. He does not move, but his eyes dart around.

Simon’s best guess is that they are at some sort of abandoned kitchen. The cupboards and floor seem industrial, but not clean, and there is a huge oven nearby. Also, it smells like prawn and cheese.

“Kitchen?” He says, but his voice comes out a little hoarse.

Jace blinks his eyes as if accepting it as a valid explanation. His gaze lingers on his face, and on his fangs, and then he attempts to glance the floor beneath his left cheek.

“You’ve a wound on your head. It bleeds,” he tells him, and he tries his best to keep his worry out of his voice, but even he can hear that he fails miserably.

“Yeah,” he replies weakly and he attempts to get up. He only ends up groaning out of pain. “It hurts.”

He believes that and shoots him a sympathetic glance. “Maybe you shouldn’t move.”

“Okay,” Jace agrees almost immediately, without putting up any kind of a fight and Simon knows he must be really in pain.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” he mutters as he tries to get better look of the kitchen. All he can see is more shiny cupboards and possibly a sink with a hose. The floor is filled with brown and red stains.

“What?”

“Been kidnapped,” he says.

Jace stares at him and then a furrow appears between his eyebrows. “How did they get past your mark?”

Simon opens his mouth to answer, but the answer dies in his mouth because he does not know. He did not even think about it. “Maybe it was an indirect attack?” He suggests with shrug. “Poison or spell or something.”

The last thing he remembers is walking at the park with Jace. It was evening and they were going back to the Institute from his place. He does not recall any attacks or anything that lead them to this reeking kitchen.

Jace does not seem to remember, either. He looks paler than usually against the grey floor and red blood. His eyes are shining weirdly. None of this eases his worry.

“Are you okay?” Jace ends up asking, even though he says it slowly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m more worried about you,” he says and he tries his best not to look at the pool of blood that keeps growing slowly, but surely. “Maybe I’m rubbing off on you because usually it’s me who gets kidnapped and you’re the rescue party.”

He knows he is rambling, but it helps him. A little.

Jace seems to consider this. “No one else I’d rather be kidnapped with.”

“I always say you’re romantic but no one ever believes me because you only say stuff like that when we are alone in a hellhole of a kitchen.”

Jace gives him a weak attempt of a laugh, but it ends in wincing.

“Someone will find us,” he says to reassure him and himself, too. “I mean statistically speaking, we haven’t ever lost anyone due to a kidnapping.”

Usually, it is almost always him who is the victim of a kidnapping, but every time someone has found him. So, he has faith. Faith and fear, because he is not sure how long Jace has left.

He might have his stele somewhere, but it is useless because he is unable to draw runes and Jace is not in the shape of doing it by himself.

“True,” Jace replies, but his slurring a bit.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Simon asks, almost frantically, and he tries to drag himself closer. A new and sharp wave of panic washes over him.

Jace looks calm as his eyes almost close. “I’m not feeling—too good,” he manages to stay, but he is obviously only on the edge of consciousness.

“Try to stay awake, okay? For me?” He says, weakly, because there is a very little Jace can do if he has a brain injury in the developments.

He no longer replies and the numbness returns to Simon’s body. He feels the panic rising in his chest, but he knows he cannot just sit there. He tries to push the panic away.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he tries to come up with a plan. There is not much to work on. Whoever captured them has taken Jace’s seraph blade, but a thought comes to Simon’s mind and he hopes his right about it.

He likes to think that he knows Jace. They have known for a while and they have dated for almost a year. They went through hell together. He knows him and he knows a bunch of little details about him. The way he drinks his coffee and how he organises his books in his shelves. He also knows that he never leaves anywhere with just one weapon.

Simon has teased him about it for months. When he leaves, he asks how many backup weapons he can possibly need or fit in his gear, and he just grins at him and says many. It looks like most of them has been taken away, but he sometimes keeps a small knife in his left boot and Simon prays it is still there when he gets closer to his feet.

Trying to get his fingers inside his boot is very difficult, but somehow, he manages to do it and he feels like he could cry when his fingertips touch the sharp end of the knife.

Sliding it out is a whole another challenge and he thinks he might have scratched Jace’s leg a little because the knife feels slippery. “Sorry,” he whispers, even though he is pretty sure he is unable to hear him.

Whatever has been used to tie his hands up does not feel like cable. It feels more like rope and Simon hopes he is right, because then he might be able to use the knife to get rid of the ties.

The knife is slender and small so cutting the rope is frustratingly slow, but he feels as if he was making process, and it gives him a little hope.

The rope does not cut completely, but it loosens enough that he manages to slide his hands free. He rubs his wrists slightly and crawls to free Jace’s hands as well. He moves him into a better and hopefully more comfortable position and softly takes his face into his hands.

He does not react, but he is still breathing. He holds him for a few seconds, and he feels like he might start crying. He tries not to think about the fact that it could be the last time he sees him alive.

He lets go of him slowly, but he ends up staring at his bloody hands. Jace’s blood. Glimmering darkly under the fluorescent lamps. The blood of the love of his life.

He does not know where that thought comes from. He has not thought about it before, but it makes him just angrier. He presses a soft kiss on his forehead before he gets up.

His legs feel wobbly and he does not want to leave Jace alone, but he feels like it is his only choice. He needs to figure out how to get out of there.

In a perfect world, where everything goes according to the plan, the whole building would be empty and they could just walk out of there. Simon, however, has learned that the world is rarely perfect, so he picks up the small knife.

He almost laughs as he watches it, remembering the time Jace kept fidgeting with it in Edom and he joked about demons being afraid of small knives. He certainly hopes their capturer is.

He pushes the cable tie in the pocket of his jeans and he attempts to look around, as if he could find anything useful for their escape.

Near the huge sink lies a frying pan. It is not in a good shape and he would never use it for cooking, but it feels heavy in his hand as he picks it up and he guesses it is better than nothing.

He steps into a narrow corridor with the pathetic frying pan. It seems that the building is not too big. At least, he can only spot a couple of doors and the other one is open.

He walks as quietly as he can closer to the open door and he peers in. There is a huge wooden table, which is completely covered in papers. They look as if they were pages of a ripped-up notebook. There are incomprehensible drawings and messy handwriting in all of them.

A woman leans against the table and she is reading one of the pages. Her blonde hair is tied up and her clothes look as if she walked straight out of a meeting in Wall Street. Simon has never seen her, but she sort of resembles a warlock Magnus told him about a week ago.

Apparently, she has an issue with shadowhunters. She is hundreds of years old and she thinks she has suffered at least as long in the hands of shadowhunters, and Simon is willing to admit that she might be correct about that. But she has developed a whole another hatred towards the new alliance between the Nephilim and downworld.

She thinks they do not need shadowhunters and that they would be a lot better without them. According to Magnus, she has gotten vocal about it and she has been criticising downworlders who are too close to the shadowhunters.

Simon guesses that explains why they are both here and why Magnus was so worried about her unpredictability.

She seems to be leaving somewhere, possibly to check on her prisoners, so he hides behind the door until he hears her turn.

“Hi,” he says as he appears in the doorway, holding the frying pan up in his hands.

She looks shocked, but recovers quickly. She starts to do an elaborate hand movement as she walks determinedly towards him. It is exactly the reaction he was hoping for, because the mark creates a shock wave and send her flying towards the wall and the table.

She falls down on the table with a thud. Seconds later the table crashes under her and the notebook pages fly all over the place.

Simon cringes as he looks at her limp body. He walks up to her and takes the cable tie out of his pocket. He ties her hands up, but he tries to do it gently. He knows it is kind of pointless if she wakes up.

“Sorry,” he mutters before he picks up the frying pan and hurries back to the kitchen. He throws it back to the sink and fights against the urge to throw up because Jace is still at the floor, he is still unconscious and there still is way too much blood.

He kneels next to him. He thinks one is not supposed to move people with headwounds too much, but he cannot just leave him there, so he tries to pick him up as gently as he can, but he has to huff a little in effort as he gets back up on his feet.

He staggers a little, but he starts to walk slowly towards somewhere and he just hopes it is towards the door. He does not even reach the half way of the corridor before Alec and Izzy barge in with their weapons raised. There are tears definitely forming in his eyes when he sees their faces as they realise in what shape Jace is in, but still, he has never been more grateful to see them.

***

Obviously, Jace wakes up when he is not there.

They had to call the Silent brothers to heal him and he tried to stay in the room, but he was ordered to leave. Izzy showed him a room where he could try to sleep. He feels weary and exhausted, but he is not sure if he can fall asleep with the knot of worry grabbing his guts.

He spends better half of an hour scrubbing his hands. He wants the stains of his blood away from his hands. He feels even more tired after that and he lays down to the narrow bed. It is hard and uncomfortable, but it is better than pacing back and forth the corridors.

He must have fallen asleep for a moment, because when he looks at the clock on the wall, the pointers of the clock have moved, and it is already small hours and closer to the morning.

He grabs one the blankets from the bed and wraps it around himself as he wanders to the direction of the infirmary.

He opens the door of his room and he thinks he might collapse out of sheer relief when he sees Jace awake. He looks exhausted, too, but he is no longer as pale as he was and someone has cleaned the blood away from his face. His hair is messy and there is still some sort of bandage on the left side of his head.

“Hey,” he greets softly when he notices him standing in the door way.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asks, as he drags one of the chairs closer to his bed and sits on it.

“It hurts,” he says with a short laugh, “but better than I was before.”

It is the understatement of the year, but Simon does not say it. He nods and he tries to let himself relax as the knot worry starts to loosen and dissolve. He feels almost shaky and weak from it.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Simon briefly wonders if he really is shaking.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures. At least, physically he is fine. Emotional stuff is a whole another story.

Jace squints his eyes and looks suspicious. “So, how mad are you at me?”

He had been staring at Jace’s hands and he jerks his head up so quickly, he feels as if nearly he gave himself a whiplash. “What?”

Jace sort of glares at him as if he was supposed to know what he means. He bites his lip. “The last time I almost died,” he says, way too causally, and touches the part of his stomach where demon claws dug months ago, “you yelled at me and we fought.”

Simon remembers it. It was their first fight and it was fuelled by a little more than just near-death experiences, but still. “That was a different thing,” he argues weakly.

This time he did actually cause his near-death experience by himself. Just wrong place at wrong time and bad circumstances.

“I’m not mad,” he clarifies, “because this time you didn’t go against four demons on your own and tried to dropkick one of them.”

“I haven’t dropkicked any demons,” Jace defends himself.

“Whatever,” he says with a thin smile and waves his hand.

Jace returns his smile and closes his eyes, but he opens them again. “I heard you got us out of there.”

Simon chuckles. “Yeah, kind of. Alec and Izzy helped in the end. But yeah, maybe you’re rubbing off on me, too, a little.”

He laughs softly. “Thank you, anyway.”

He does not know what to say. He does not need to thank him, at least. It was the least he could do and as if he would have left him there to bleed to death. The thought of it still makes him shudder.

“I really thought you were going to die,” he ends up saying, quite frankly. “Look, my hand is still shaking,” he says as he raises his right hand that is still trembling slightly.

Jace grabs his hand slightly awkwardly, but still holds it in his. “Sorry.”

“Still not your fault,” he reminds him gently. He kisses his knuckles. “But I’m still really glad you didn’t die.”

He laughs again. “Me, too.”

“Can I kiss you or does your head hurt too much?” He has been wanting to kiss him every since he saw him awake, but the last thing he wants to do is increase his pain.

“I would have kissed you already if I could get up from this bed,” Jace laughs and he is still laughing when he kisses him.

 

**1 year later**

Jace wakes up and he realises he is alone in the bed. It is not a rare occurrence because of their ridiculous schedules, but he still does not like it.

This time, as he lies there staring at the empty space next to him, he can hear Simon moving around the kitchen. The soft sound of his footsteps against the wooden floor, his even softer humming, the coffee maker’s weird ripple sounds and dishes clanging.

He manages to get himself out of the bed. He cannot find his t-shirt, so he decides it is pointless to look for it. It is not like it is the first time he sees him only in his boxers.

He finds Simon from the kitchen. He is mixing something in the pot, which is still on the stove. His face lights up into a bright smile when he notices him. He is wearing an over-sized green t-shirt that says pancakes and under it there is a drawn picture of a stack of pancakes and a small pan flag is on top of the stack.

Jace walks up to him and hugs him from the behind. He kisses his neck and half-rests his head on his shoulder. That is when he sees what he is cooking. He groans.

“I was going to wish you happy anniversary, but now I just want to break up.”

“Damn,” he says but he can hear the grin in his voice. “I even made porridge.”

“Precisely why,” he points out, but he opens his mouth when Simon offers him a spoonful of the porridge. “Somehow this tastes even worse,” he comments, his mouth still full of porridge. It is kind of an achievement because the one he ate over a year ago in France was one of the worst things he has ever eaten.

“Then it is a success,” he says with a shit-eating grin and rummages through one of the cupboards and finds a plate. He puts porridge onto it and gives it to him.

Jace just shakes his head as he sits down to the kitchen table. He cannot believe he woke up early to make the porridge, just to make him suffer for his own amusement.

He sits across from him and sips blood from a mug. “Also, all of our plans are cancelled because of the storm,” he says, looking outside from the narrow window. “Unless you want to get hit in the face by a flying traffic sign.”

Jace glances outside, too. It truly is windy as all sort of trash is moving along with the wind and as he listens to it more closely, he can hear the wind howling outside. The sky is dark with grey clouds and it might rain soon. “I’ll pass.”

“So you’re stuck with me,” Simon says, and it kind of sounds like a joke.

“I don’t mind,” he mutters as an off-handed comment, as he eats more porridge, but it is the truth. The storm does sort of ruin their plans, but he does not care as long as they can spend the time together.

“I cannot believe you’re actually eating that,” Simon says, nodding towards his plate.

Jace chuckles. “I’m actually hungry enough,” he says, and even though it is a joke, Simon still made it for him.

“I’m gonna drive you crazy,” he says, and he is not quite sure if he is referring to the storm or just generally to their relationship.

“You’re not,” he says, because it is the truth, either way. He does not drive him up the wall in the slightest. Exasperated maybe, a little, sometimes, but even then, most of the time, he is just pretending for the sake of it. Obviously, he loves him, but he also genuinely likes all of him and likes to be around him.

Simon drums his fingers against the mug, and he knows he is going to say something he has thought about for a while, but still, for some reason, he is anxious about it.

 “What if you moved here, like permanently. I know the Institute is more than just a home for you, but you know, you already half live here and--,” the words seem to flood out of his mouth rapidly.

“Yes.”

“Really?” Simon has the audacity to seem surprised, as if he would have given any other reply than that one.

“Yes, really,” he repeats. He knows he replied almost immediately, but he has actually thought about it, too. He just did not know how to bring it up because after all, it is Simon’s apartment and he was not sure if he was ready for it.

“That’s—great,” Simon says and frowns as if he was not happy with his own choice of words.

“I don’t have much stuff to bring over,” he tells him, as he thinks about his room at the institute.

“And I don’t have much space. It’s a match made in heaven,” he deadpans, but he still reaches over the table to kiss him quickly. It is a short kiss, but it is still so full of adoration that it makes his heart melt a little.

“I cannot believe you made me ‘will-you-move-in-with-me’ porridge,” Jace whispers against his lips as they rest their foreheads against each other.

“I thought it would be so terrible that it would make any other thing seem significantly better,” he admits quietly.

Jace huffs softly. “I would have said yes without it, too.”

***

It turns out that being stuck in the apartment because of the storm does not really differ from any other their day-offs.

They are laying on the sofa, mostly tangled on each other or least legs pumping against each other. They are on their third episode of some sort house finding show, when Simon suddenly looks at him as if he had realised something crucial.

“Should we make new promises?”

Jace shrugs slightly. Even if they were not completely serious with the promises at the start, they still got them this far and he guesses there is no harm in doing more. “Sure.”

Simon gets up and throws the blanket over him. He returns moments later with a piece of paper and a pen. “Do you want to unpromise anything from the previous list?” He asks, as he sits down, and attempts to find the original list from his phone.

“Not really,” he says, trying to recall all of their promises. He sees Simon write ‘not as bad as Edom’ down and he snorts. It really has not been as bad as their journey to hell and it is the kind of promise they could take off the list, but by now, it kind of has emotional value.

Simon gives him the paper and a pen. The list is written in wobbly letters because he wrote it against his own knee. Jace takes them and writes _Simon is never allowed to make porridge, again_.

“Hey, that’s rude,” he says as he laughs. It is a bubbly and happy laughter, but he still steals the list and the pen back.

_Jace could stop snoring,_ he writes next with a grin.

“I don’t snore,” Jace argues with a mock hurt and shock, but he is laughing, too.

“You do,” Simon insists, “but it is kind of cute,” he says and crosses it out.

Jace takes the pen and paper back, but he stops for a moment to think. Eventually, he writes _not to second guess how you feel._

He has not done it in a while, out loud at least. In the beginning, it was difficult for him to accept that Simon could really love him the way he is and just accept all of the baggage that comes with him. Or that it would last. He kind of waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to see who he truly was and realise that he was not worth it.

He did see him as he truly was and he loved him, anyway. It was better than he could have ever imagined, but it was still hard to accept. He still sometimes has his doubts, but it is better than before.

Simon’s eyes dart between the list and him as if he could not decide where to look at. He looks sad, nonetheless. “It’s okay, you--,” he starts.

“It’s not okay,” Jace interrupts softly. It took him some time, too long, to realise how much he hurt him by his constant doubting and mistrust.

Simon hums, but he lets the list be as it is. He writes _I will choose you_ under it, but he says nothing. He has a small and knowing smile on his lips. It is kind of beatific. Jace kind of wants to say he does have to promise that, but he lets it be.

It is his turn again. He thinks about it for a moment until he remembers that there is a one promise he made already during the year. _I’ll have your back._

His smile is soft as he looks as the list. He does not write anything for a while, and Jace already thinks they are done with the list, but then he picks up the pen and writes. _I’ll open up more._

It is a weird statement coming from Simon. Anybody could think that he is a very open person because he likes to talk and he is honest. He blurts out things, but he is sincere. Jace used to think so too, but the more he has gotten to know him, the more he knows that he is not the best at talking.

He lets him know if he is sad or upset, but he is vague with it and he rarely gives a detailed reasoning behind it, but it has been fine with Jace. He has not wanted to pressure him into talking, but if he wants to promise it, then it is fine with him.

“So,” he says, looking at him, “do you think we can manage another year?” He asks, waving the paper in his hand.

“Yeah,” Jace agrees with an enamoured smile, “we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done and I have no idea how it became this long, but it now is that way. I want to thank everyone who has been reading this story and has left kudos and comments! They mean a lot to me! All the mistakes are once again mine because I proof read this in the middle of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> All of the mistakes are mine and there probably are some and part of the dialogue in the beginning is from 3x10 of shadowhunters. The title is from a song called "Is there somewhere?" by Halsey. I have high hopes of updating this weekly, but I have no idea if I can manage that, but I hope so!


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